


The Mystery of the Curious Village

by huhu_lene_gz



Series: Professor Soot and Assistant Innit [1]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: BadBoyHalo - Freeform, Gen, Mild Angst, Mystery, Professor Layton - Freeform, Professor Layton And The Curious Village, Puzzles, because lets face it both wilbur and tommy are in it, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huhu_lene_gz/pseuds/huhu_lene_gz
Summary: Dear Professor Wilbur Soot,It has been a while since we last spoke. Five months, at the very least. I have been struck down by a terrible illness, one which I do not expect to recover from. However, before I pass on, there is one last thing I would like to ask of you.I have hidden in my village my treasure, the Golden Apple, and I formally invite you to join in on the hunt. Whoever finds it will inherit my entire fortune with no exceptions.I wish you the best of luck.A re-telling of Professor Layton and the Curious Village, starring Wilbur as Layton and Tommy as Luke.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Professor Soot and Assistant Innit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158050
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hello im back this time with a prof layton au. I think Wilbur and Tommy's friendship is REALLY similar to that of Prof. Layton and Luke ngl 
> 
> Disclaimer! NOTHING in this fic belongs to me. Not the plot, characters, puzzles. I wholeheartedly advise suspension of disbelief for this! Also, the characters who are not MCYT are from the actual game itself.
> 
> where were the other aus i promised the last time? I MYSELF HAVE NO IDEA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Soot and Asst. Innit arrive at the curious village of St. Mystere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the answers for the puzzles will be included right after the puzzle has been written out so be careful! 
> 
> For puzzles involving pictures pls right-click the image to open it in a new tab! 
> 
> Solutions for the are released at the very end of the fic (it'll take a while to get the fic up so anyone who sees only 1 chap for this pls wait a couple of minutes/hours thank you!)

_[Dear](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztZuj3L7r9Y) Professor Wilbur Soot, _

_It has been a while since we last spoke. Five months, at the very least. I have been struck down by a terrible illness, one which I do not expect to recover from. However, before I pass on, there is one last thing I would like to ask of you._

_I have hidden in my village my treasure, the Golden Apple, and I formally invite you to join in on the hunt. Whoever finds it will inherit my entire fortune with no exceptions._

_I wish you the best of luck._

_Augustus Reinhold_

*

“A rather long letter, innit?” Tommy says, the letter crinkling as he shoves it back into its envelope. The scenery rushes by them, the relaxing green plains a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. Herds of sheep and cows grazing on the swathes of grass. Windmills stand amongst the rippling fields, blades spinning with the strong gusts.

Wilbur keeps his eyes on the road, turning down a corner. “You should have seen his other letters.”

Tommy snorts, turning to stare out the window. The rickety vehicle trundles along the long, winding road, pebbles clacking against its underbelly. Tommy wonders how long Wilbur’s had this ancient contraption.

“Can you get the map, Tommy?” Wilbur asks. “In the envelope.”

They seem to be approaching a crossroads, three different paths emerging from the fork. Tommy scrambles for the enclosed map, unfolding it as quickly as he can.

“What the fuck?”

“What is it?”

“‘The village is on a road leading to no other towns.’” Tommy squints at it. “Why doesn’t big A just write street names and a clear set of instructions?”

[ **< Puzzle: Where’s the Town?>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U)

“Because Augustus likes puzzles,” Wilbur says pleasantly. “Granted, we should have solved this one before we began this journey.”

Tommy sighs as Wilbur stops the vehicle, sinking back into his seat as he attempts to work this out, tracing the roads with a finger. Not that one…

“Can you hurry up, Tommy? I’m wasting gas.”

“I’m trying, you motherfucker,” Tommy huffs, brows knitted as he traces the next road. Nope, not that one too; it passes through two towns…

“This one,” Tommy says, stabbing a finger at the right road. “To St. Mystere.”

[Wilbur](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRFeuJPW-Uc) revs the engine. “Alright then, let’s go.”

The car travels down the bumpy road, passing by dense copses of trees that eventually open up to a beautiful landscape. Or, well, it would have been beautiful if not for a giant, ugly tower that’s sprung out of nowhere, reaching high above the clouds. It is accompanied by a cluster of tiny houses, a brick wall erected around the borders of the village.

“What the fuck is that? Is that St. Mystere?” Tommy asks.

“Looks like it.”

It is not just the perimeter walling that surround the settlement. Wilbur stops their car right before a canal, its murky waters likely chilly at this time of the year. Their only way in seems to be through a set of heavy wooden doors past a narrow drawbridge.

“You sure this is the place, Wilbur?”

“Well, it looks plenty mysterious to me,” Wilbur says, alighting from the car.

As they approach the canal, a man pokes his head out of the guard post by the raised drawbridge on the village’s side. He is dressed in a white singlet with his hands on his hips, gruffness evident from his frown.

“Who the hell’re you?”

Tommy hates him already.

“Excuse me. My name is Wilbur Soot and a good friend of the late Augustus Reinhold,” Wilbur says, tipping his hat respectfully. “Do you mind if we-“

“The mayor, huh? You here to search for the Golden Apple too?”

Wilbur nods, taking that in stride. “Indeed.”

Tommy watches as the man eyes them suspiciously from under those thick brows.

“Then you gotta pass my test,” the man says brusquely.

“A test?”

“It’s a puzzle, of course,” the man says. “You know how much the Baron likes puzzles.”

Wilbur never told him anything about it. “Of course. We’d be happy to solve it.”

The man doles out his puzzle, a lengthy problem that simply sucks the motivation out of Tommy.

[ **< Puzzle: Farm Work>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U)

“Two people, A and B, have been hired by a farm to sow some seeds. They’ve been assigned to a 10-acre plot of land and split it in half so that they can work independently. A starts from the east and B from the west.

A can plow the land at a rate of twenty minutes per acre. B takes forty minutes to plow but sow seeds at three times the speed A does.

If sowing the seeds on the 10-acre plot pays a hundred pounds, how much of that money should go to A?”

“That’s an easy one,” Wilbur says, as soon as the man finishes saying his piece. “"Fifty pounds."

Tommy gapes at him. “Wilbur, are you a walking calculator?”

“There is minimal calculation involved in this one, Tommy,” Wilbur says with a laugh.

[The](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRFeuJPW-Uc&) man standing by the drawbridge, unwilling as he may be, lowers the drawbridge for them. Well, they’ve certainly passed his test.

The bridge hits the ground with a muffled thud and the wooden gates swing creakily. Wilbur and Tommy enter, footsteps loud amidst the silence of the town. What greets them is a scene so medieval-like that Tommy almost believes that they are on the set of a fantasy movie.

As soon as they are through the gates, the man behind the crank raises the bridge again and the wooden gates slam shut behind them.

“Can’t be lettin’ just any old hooligan in now, can we?” the man says, tipping his hat. “By the way, could you be the visitors Lady Dahlia was expecting?”

Lady Dahlia? Wilbur never told him about a woman.

“Well, yes. She did write to me a couple of days ago,” Wilbur says, retrieving an envelope from within the folds of his coat and waving it front of the man.

“The Reinhold manor is over yonder. See that big house over there?” the man says, jabbing a finger in the direction of a small hill, on the opposite end of the village from the strange, black tower that they had seen earlier.

Wilbur thanks him. “We’ll best be on our way.” He turns to Tommy. “Come on, let us go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzles in this Chapter:   
> Where's the Town?  
> Farm Work


	2. Reinhold Manor Awaits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Soot and Asst. Innit head off to meet with Lady Dahlia

[He](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUDNnjDnWRg) sets off down the mossy cobblestone path, with Tommy staying close to his side. Tommy expected the town to be rather stale, considering how everything looks straight out of a historical documentary, and he’s not mistaken. The whole place resembles a ghost town.

“So, um…who’s this woman, Wilbur?” Tommy asks, trying not to let the silence get to him.

“Who? Lady Dahlia?” Wilbur asks, adjusting his hat.

“Yeah. You never told me anything about a woman, Will.”

“Because I didn’t see the need,” Wilbur says. “Lady Dahlia is Augustus’ wife. Current wife.”

“Oh. Did he divorce his previous wife?”

Wilbur hums, deigning to verbalize an answer. Tommy flinches as he steps on a manhole cover, the metal plate clattering beneath his feet. As they continue on, the road leading up to the mansion appears more and more populated. There are actually townspeople chatting with each other, strange people in strange clothes.

As Tommy feared, they garner quite some attention as they pass them by. Maybe it’s their gait, or maybe it’s the dignity that Wilbur wears like a mantle no matter where he goes. It’s hard to tell when they’re so vastly different from the whispering schoolgirls, the grandmotherly owner of a shop of porcelain goods, the two men wearing hardhats, one of them holding a brick slathered with concrete.

Where have they come from? What are they doing here? Probably to search for the Golden Apple. Are they nice people?

“Let them talk,” Wilbur says, as if reading Tommy’s mind. “We won’t be here for long. We’ll find the Golden Apple and we’ll leave, Tommy.”

“I’m not worried, Wilbur. I’m a big man.”

Wilbur’s back is to him, but Tommy can imagine him rolling his eyes condescendingly. Tommy hates it when Wilbur doubts his enormity. “Sure you are.”

As they plod past the busy street – relative, of course, to the rest of the village – they come to a nicer-looking stone path decorated with tall walls and creepers slithering up them. The mansion appears bigger, grander up close than before.

The path leading up to the mansion’s double doors is flanked with flowerbeds, the walls giving way to a beautiful garden, a dirt path lined with pebbles that weaves past the shrubs of roses and lilies. The dark shade of the doors, a rustic brand of oak, perfectly matches the creamy bricks of the walls.

“Welcome to Reinhold Manor.” A man stands before a wide river, bowing as they approach. He is extremely tall, and his lips especially thick. “Might you be Lady Dahlia’s visitors?”

Wilbur affirms that statement.

“My name is Ramon, and I work here at the manor,” the man says. He gestures to the rickety boat bobbing along the water, drifting with the flow of the river. “Please do board the boat; I shall ferry you across.”

Wilbur is the first to step onto the vessel, keeping his balance skilfully. Tommy stares at the boat, looking as old as time itself. He takes Wilbur’s hand and manages to board safely. Ramon picks up the set of oars lying by the grass and begins to paddle, the blade of the oar breaking the water surface gently. Tommy leans over, only to be met by a splash of water to the face.

“I told you not to do that,” Wilbur says.

Tommy wipes at his face with a hand. “No you didn’t.”

“Say, Tommy, have you heard of a river-crossing puzzle before?” Wilbur asks.

“Can’t say I have. But I’m not too fond of puzzles, Wilbur.”

[ **< Puzzle: Wolves and Chicks>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

“Well, imagine this: there are three wolves and three chicks on one side of a riverbank,” Wilbur presses, despite Tommy’s groan. “Let’s say you want to move all six animals to the opposite end of the river with a raft. This raft can only take two animals at once, and there must be at least one animal on it for it to move.”

“I’ve heard this one before,” Ramon says, a twinkle in his eye. Tommy glares at Wilbur.

“This is dumb.”

“Shush, child.” Wilbur clears his throat and continues. “At any point in time, neither side of the river can have more wolves than chicks or else the wolves will eat the chicks.”

“I say we should let the wolves have at them.”

Ramon chuckles.

Wilbur ignores that comment. “So, what is the smallest number of raft trips you need to transport all animals to the other side?”

Tommy huffs, glancing over the boat’s edge at the water. “Eleven.”

Wilbur raises a brow. “Correct.”

[The boat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUDNnjDnWRg) reaches the other end swiftly, its hull knocking against the wooden platform of the jetty. Wilbur helps Tommy out, and Ramon stands by the side of the water, oar still in hand.

“The butler, Matthew, will attend to you,” Ramon says. “Our staff has been informed of your arrival.”

“Thank you,” Wilbur says. “Come on, Tommy Innit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzles in this Chapter: Wolves and Chicks


	3. The Fugitive Feline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting with Lady Dahlia does not go as planned...

[The duo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUDNnjDnWRg) strides up to the double doors and Wilbur raps his knuckles against the thick wood. One of the doors swings open, as creaky as ever, revealing the manor’s entrance hall and a tiny man whose hand rests on the door’s knob.

The entrance hall is more sparkly than Tommy envisioned. Large portraits framed in gold embedded with jewels decorate the walls, depicting the members of the Reinhold family. An old man, an old woman, another old woman…what’s this? A boy? He’s the only one who looks below forty. He’s dressed in a cuffed vest and coat, sparkling sequins sewn onto his sleeves.

“Greetings,” the tiny man says. Tommy jolts. He almost forgot he was there. This guy must be Matthew, the butler that Ramon mentioned.

He’s all decked out, wearing a black suit over a white waistcoat, a red bowtie completing his butler-y look. He fidgets with the hem of his blazer with one hand, the other reaching up to his spectacles, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose. “Welcome to Reinhold Manor, Professor Soot. We’ve been expecting you.”

“We wish to see Lady Dahlia,” Wilbur says. “Is she around?”

“Yes, but I have been told to issue you a simple test,” Matthew says, wringing his hands. “It’s standard procedure for any visitors who’d like to see the Lady.”

Why is it that everyone in this village seems so hell-bent on testing them? Do they doubt their credibility?

“Of course. What test do you speak of?”

“Well, it’s a question. A problem, if you will,” Matthew says. “It’s nothing too difficult. If you truly are Professor Soot, then you would be able to solve it in no time.”

“Lay it on me,” Wilbur says firmly.

[ **< Puzzle: Pill Prescription>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

“Well then, a man has been prescribed ten pills. Starting today, he must take one pill a day, but because the concentration of the medicine is different in each pill, he must take them in a specific order. Since the pills all look the same, the man has decided to write numbers on each pill to help him remember the order he needs to take them in.

What is the smallest number of pills he has to number if he wants to keep track of the order?”

“Eight.”

Matthew looks impressed, but he can’t be any more impressed than Tommy is.

[“Upstairs,”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zH8pn_BuR4U) he says. “Please come this way.”

Tommy takes the time to marvel at the flashy baubles and shiny jewellery strung up all over the walls, sophisticated bookshelves stuffed to the brim with old tomes with spines bound by string. A dangling chandelier illuminates the house, giving the whole creamy interior a sort of bucolic charm.

It’s just slightly too formal for Tommy. Like he’s taken a trip through time and is now bumbling through a castle from the Tudor period.

The velvet carpet that blankets the spiral staircase seems to absorb all sound, rendering their footsteps silent like a cat’s. The stairs end at the top, as does the banister, transitioning into a narrow corridor furnished with tapestries, a grandfather’s clock and a set of drawers before coming to another elaborate entranceway.

“This is the drawing room,” Matthew says, knocking on the door. Upon hearing Lady Dahlia’s voice from within, he twists the knob. “The Lady awaits.”

The drawing room is more sparsely ornamented than the other rooms they’ve passed through. The musty smell of wood wafts around them, accentuating the countryside feel of the house. Lady Dahlia stands before them, a woman draped in a satin dress that curtains her slender figure, a stole wrapped around her neck. The other person present is a young man in a white vest and beige pants, a pair of crimson spectacles perched on his nose. He merely harrumphs upon their arrival, and Tommy decides that he doesn’t like him very much.

“You must be Professor Soot,” Lady Dahlia says, reaching out for a handshake, the other arm hugging her pet cat tightly to her chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you today.”

“The honour’s all mine,” Wilbur says, grasping her hand firmly.

However, just as they part, the ground quakes unexpectedly. Tommy nearly topples, hands shooting out to grab onto the nearest bureau, almost knocking a blue vase. Meanwhile, the other man in the room tumbles over, crashing into a closet.

[“Claudia?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NE_WVSv4sVo) No! Claudia!”

A series of yowls pierce Tommy’s ears as something furry brushes by him. The tremor is gone in an instant, leaving the occupants of the house somewhat shaken.

“What the hell, man!” Tommy steadies himself. What in the world was that?

“Dahlia, are you alright?” the man in white asks, grabbing onto Lady Dahlia’s arm.

“I’m fine,” Lady Dahlia says, but her expression morphs into a scowl. “Claudia has run off! This is dreadful! A catastrophe!”

It’s just a damn cat, Tommy wants to say, but restrains himself upon catching Wilbur’s gaze. He bites the inside of his cheek, opting to scuff his soles against the sleek wooden floorboards instead.

“Lady Dahlia, are you-“

“Professor, I’m afraid that the search for Claudia must take precedence over everything else,” Lady Dahlia huffs, assuming a haughty air. “Claudia is my princess, and unless I am certain that she is warm and well and comfortable, my mind cannot be put to rest.”

Wilbur and Tommy exchange glances. What an insufferable woman, Tommy thinks. It’s just a cat. It’ll turn up eventually. The Golden Apple is much more important than that beast.

“Matthew! Did you see where Claudia went?” Lady Dahlia asks. Matthew shakes his head ashamedly.

“Outside,” Tommy says. “I saw it.”

“We can search for Claudia, if you’d like,” Wilbur says. Tommy doesn’t want to know what is going through his head when he offered the help. They have no time to waste on frivolous things like a cat chase!

“Do hurry,” Lady Dahlia says, biting at her nail. Her _polished_ nail, Tommy might add. “I cannot imagine Claudia being out in the world like that and braving the elements all on her own…”

“We’ll be right back,” Wilbur says quickly. He beckons to Tommy who is right on his heels, eager to get out of that stuffy room as fast as possible. They leave Lady Dahlia under the care of her butler and the man in white.

[“She’s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUDNnjDnWRg) bipolar, Wilbur.”

Wilbur sighs. “I’m inclined to believe she isn’t. She’s just concerned for her cat, like any normal pet owner would.”

“She’s weird as fuck.”

“That’s a rude thing to say, Tommy.”

Tommy has never realized just how much he needed a breath of fresh air until he’s gotten a whiff of the flowers’ scent as soon as he leaves the manor.

“Why hello again.” Ramon is standing guard outside the manor, by his trusty boat. “That noise was rather loud. Did something happen?”

“Do you get earthquakes around here?” Wilbur asks. Tommy’s sure that Britain isn’t on the edge of any tectonic plates, but one can never be too sure about nature’s whims.

“No, not exactly,” Ramon says. “That sound was unlike anything I’ve ever heard, though. I wonder what could have caused it.”

Well, they’ve got no time to worry about that for now.

“Did you see where the cat went?” Tommy asks.

“The cat? Do you mean Claudia? I don’t believe-“ Ramon starts, interrupted by Wilbur’s shout.

“Over there!” Without a curt cry, Wilbur takes off down the dirt path, watching as Claudia runs off towards the garden, trampling on some foliage along the way. Tommy follows Wilbur’s lead, leaping over flowers and bushes as they make after the runaway feline.

“There!” Wilbur makes a lunge at the cat’s pristine white fur, closing his hands around its middle. Wilbur lands so harshly on his stomach that it’s painful to watch. The cat yowls, body thrashing against Wilbur’s tight hold as Tommy catches up to them.

“Do your thing, Tommy! Quick!”

Tommy reaches for Claudia, only for the cat to lash out at him, claws scratching at thin air.

“Oi! Pussy!” Tommy hisses, reaching a hand out to Claudia’s head before pulling his hand away from its outstretched paw. “Wilbur, I don’t think it likes me very much.”

“That’s because you yelled ‘pussy’ at it, you absolute _bastard_! Speak to animals like how you’d speak to other people!”

“I _did_!”

It’s not long before Claudia stops throwing its tantrum, tuckered out from the battle that had ensued. Tommy breathes a shaky sigh of relief as the cat lays sprawled on the ground in Wilbur’s grasp, utterly defeated.

Wilbur stands with Claudia cradled in his arm, clumps of soil sticking to the front of his coat. Tommy reaches over to receive the cat from him. Its fur is so disgustingly white. Like snow. Meanwhile, Wilbur brushes the earth off him, scrunching his nose up at the mess.

“Well, that’s what you get for having long legs, Wilbur.”

“These aren’t built to chase down cats,” Wilbur scoffs. “Now that we’ve secured it, let’s head back to Lady Dahlia.”

At least _that_ _’_ _s_ over. Claudia is nestled against Tommy’s chest with the most disgruntled expression that a cat can possibly muster. Tommy doesn’t want to spend a second longer with this thing than he has to.

As they walk on back to the front of the manor, Tommy notices a staircase well hidden amongst the grass. It’s as if someone carved a hole in the ground, a stone cross engraved on a door that lies at the very bottom of it.

“What’s that?” Tommy asks, gesturing to the peculiarity with his free hand.

Wilbur spares a glance at it. Not a careless one – the inquisitive sparkle tells Tommy otherwise. “Don’t know.”

What he means is that he may not know now, but it’s good to keep it in mind. Tommy hates to admit it, but his friend has a knack for these kinds of stuff; detective work, that is. Must be from his years of being an archaeology professor. Or his love for puzzles in general.

“Is that Claudia?” Ramon meanders over, having abandoned the oars by the boat.

“Yeah,” Tommy says, holding a motionless Claudia out to him. “Do you want it?”

Ramon furrows his brows, a hand on his back. “No. Not particularly. I do wonder how Lady Dahlia handles this tiny devil.”

“Does your back hurt?” Wilbur asks.

“Been aching for a while now,” Ramon says. “These old joints aren’t what they used to be.”

Tommy may be mistaken, but Ramon does look to be in his twenties. Wilbur’s about that age and _he_ isn’t getting back problems. Then again, that might be the reason why Ramon didn’t even bother lending a hand during the whole cat caper.

“Well, I guess we’d be heading back,” Wilbur says, a hand on the door. “Lady Dah-“

Wilbur doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because the next thing he knows, he’s stumbling forward as the door swings open violently. A harried man – Matthew – appears, looking downright terrified. A veil of sweat shines brilliantly on his forehead. His eyes are shifty, chest heaving.

“What’s wrong?” Wilbur asks, regaining his composure as quickly as he’d lost it.

[“A-A](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zH8pn_BuR4U&) most horrible thing has happened!” Matthew cries. “Professor Soot! I ask that you accompany me immediately! Lady Dahlia is in desperate need of your assistance!”

Tommy tilts his head in confusion. “You talking about the cat, big man?”

“No! Something even more…I cannot even begin to describe the sheer terror of it!”

Something worse than the cat? This, Tommy has got to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzle in this Chapter:  
> Pill Prescription


	4. A Most Peculiar Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A murder has occurred and enter the Inspector

[“Please come](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NE_WVSv4sVo&) with me!” Matthew rushes back into the house. As soon as the trio are through – Ramon opts to stay on the outside – Tommy releases Claudia into the grand hall. He runs up the spiral staircase two steps at a time, coming to the familiar narrow hallway that leads to the drawing room.

As soon as Wilbur barges in, all he sees Lady Dahlia and a stranger with brown hair and a black coat lined with red. Lady Dahlia appears relieved at their arrival, despite the fact that they don’t have the cursed cat with them.

“Who the hell are you?” Tommy points at the man. He yelps as Wilbur smacks him over the head.

“Pardon my apprentice. He’s a little...a little bit of a handful.” Wilbur chuckles awkwardly. “Lack of manners and all that.”

The man looks unimpressed. “Well, ‘language’ is all I’ve got to say to him. You’re Professor Soot, right?”

“Indeed I am. Wilbur Soot, an archaeology professor at Gressenheller University,” Wilbur says. “This is my apprentice and assistant, Tommy Innit.” He reaches for a handshake, which the man eyes suspiciously for a second before taking it.

“The name’s Bad Halo, inspector at Scotland Yard,” the man says. He’s an inspector, hmm? What the heck’s he here for? “I’ve been called to investigate a murder.”

[A murder?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WdfU1avCqPA) Tommy perks up at that. If there’s one thing he loves it’ s a good killing. Where’s the body? Why’re they standing here in an empty room when there’s a murder to be solved? Will they end up on the front papers if they lend a hand?

“A murder?” Wilbur asks. “That’s absurd. We had only been gone a short span of time.”

“I hate to admit it, but it is true,” Lady Dahlia says with a troubled frown. “I felt faint after my little angel escaped, so I retired to my room to rest.” Tommy’s eyes follow her hand as she gestures towards the door at the far end of the drawing room. “Simon chose to remain here to inform me of your return. The next time I saw him, he had collapsed on the ground.”

Simon? Who the fuck’s Simon?

“Was Simon the man in white?” Wilbur asks. Oh. That guy.

“Hey,” Bad says, stepping in. “You aren’t the police inspector here, Professor.”

“Ah.” Wilbur catches himself. “I apologize. I must have overstepped a boundary.”

“It’s fine.” Bad turns to Lady Dahlia. “Mrs Dahlia, you were certain that you saw Mr Simon dead in this very room?”

“Yes,” Lady Dahlia says. “I tried shaking him, but he wouldn’t wake up.”

“Where’s the body now?” Wilbur asks.

“I removed it for autopsy. It’s probably halfway to Scotland Yard,” Bad says.

Tommy frowns.

“Everyone here is a suspect,” Bad says, making a sweeping gesture. “Anyone who had been on this side of the river at the time of the murder can be the killer, so I cannot let anyone leave until I’ve questioned everyone.”

“But we were out catching that stupid cat!” Tommy cries, ignoring the enraged snarl on Lady Dahlia’s face. “There’s no way that we could have fuckin-“

“Language!”

“Tommy,” Wilbur says, warning in his tone. He turns back to Bad. “Although my assistant lacks basic decency, I can vouch for the both of us: we had been outside the manor at the behest of the Lady to catch a runaway feline.”

“A cat? Where’s it now?” Bad asks.

“You seem to have returned without my darling Claudia,” Lady Dahlia sniffs.

“We left it in the grand hall, since we were hurried upstairs,” Wilbur says, face hard. “However, Ramon can also confirm our alibis as he had watched us catch Claudia.”

“Ramon? Who is that?” Bad scratches at his chin. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I guess I should question him too. Mr Matthew, was it? Would you go and fetch him?”

“Y-Yes sir,” Matthew stammers, before rushing back down the stairs. Tommy almost feels sorry for the man. Almost.

Still, there were only so many people in the house at the time of the murder, in that short frame of time when he and Wilbur had been out nabbing the cat. Lady Dahlia and Matthew had been present. Perhaps Ramon even, since he hadn’t been with them the whole time.

“What’s this?”

Wilbur is crouched at the spot where the rug appears disturbed. He pinches something between his fingers: a tiny wooden cog with a strange symbol etched upon it. Did the killer drop this?

“I have never seen that in my life,” Lady Dahlia says, squinting at the cog.

“May I have it?” Bad asks, leaning over. Wilbur hands it to him and Bad scrutinizes it. “This looks like a cog. From a machine or something.”

“Perhaps,” Wilbur agrees. “The murderer could have dropped it, or it may have fallen from Simon’s person; he could have been carrying it at the time of the murder.”

“I don’t think he had anything on him that had a cog in it,” Bad says, “so we can safely rule out the possibility that Simon dropped it. That means that it must belong to the killer.”

Wilbur nods. “Fair enough. Suppose the killer had it. Although, I’m not sure what difference it makes either way until more details come to light. Now, I’d like to focus our attention on something more…interesting.”

“Interesting?” Lady Dahlia sounds intrigued.

“How was Simon killed?” Wilbur says. “There is no blood anywhere – the only methods the killer could have employed, that I can think of, is asphyxiation or poison. Inspector, had there been any signs of poison on Simon’s mouth?”

“No. Not that I remember,” Bad says, “so it must have been strangulation.”

“Maybe,” Wilbur says, sounding unconvinced. “However, strangulation is tricky business – it tends to drag out the kill. This would give Simon the ability to strike back.”

“Any chance of soporifics or anaesthetics?” Lady Dahlia says.

Wilbur shakes his head. “According to the good Inspector, there were no sign of any foreign chemical on his lips. Moreover, this room is absolutely clean. No broken ornaments, no broken baubles…” Wilbur makes a sweeping gesture. “Odd, don’t you think?”

Bad shrugs. “I guess.”

“Another pressing concern is the killer’s method of escape,” Wilbur continues. “Matthew had been in the grand hall at all times. There had been nothing out of place when Tommy and I re-entered the manor. We spotted no shadowy figure, no hide or hair of any stranger. Unless, of course, the killer left through the windo-”

Before Wilbur can continue his musings, the door bursts open, revealing a breathless Matthew, pools of perspiration blooming across his waistcoat.

“Lady, and sirs!” Matthew cries, gasping for air as he clutches at his chest. “I can’t find Ramon anywhere.”

“Oh! I get it. It must have been him,” Bad says, adjusting his coat. “Only the murderer would flee the scene of the crime. We must apprehend him immediately.”

“Not so fast, Inspector,” Wilbur says, grabbing Bad’s shoulder, but the latter shrugs him off. 

“Mr Matthew! Please order a search party to find Ramon and detain him at once!”

“We don’t know that he is-“ Wilbur tries, but Bad turns to him with a dissatisfied expression.

“This is official criminal affairs, Professor. Any more interference and I will have to charge you for obstruction of justice,” Bad says, pausing just outside the door. “Now, you may carry on your merry way. You’re here to search for the Golden Apple, right?”

Wilbur’s Adam’s Apple bobs as curiosity flickers across his eyes. “Yes. We _are_ here for that purpose.”

“Then I’ll leave you to do your job, and you’ll let me do mine. Okay?” Bad says exasperatedly, sticking out a hand. Wilbur shakes it.

“Deal.”

“Now, I’m going to search for the murderer,” Bad says.

Wilbur ducks his head. With a quiet “Come on, Tommy.”, he heads out of the room. Tommy quashes down his frustration at this pushy Inspector and grudgingly follows Wilbur out.

“Wilbur, why’d you have to agree with him? We could have won that!”

“It’s not worth it,” Wilbur says. “It is true, as the Inspector said, that we’re here to find the Golden Apple, and no more than that.”

Tommy mumbles expletives under his breath. The very thought of Inspector Halo really sets his blood on fire. The whole case is very peculiar, in his eyes. Not even the songbirds’ melodies nor the blustering gales of wind can distract him from the case’s unusual points.

Simon had been murdered in the few minutes – probably twenty to thirty – that he and Wilbur had spent chasing the cat. During that time, Bad had arrived and transported the body away from the scene. There is no conceivable way in which the murderer could have effectively killed Simon and the lack of an escape route is even more alarming.

It’s entirely weird.

*

“What time is it?” Wilbur asks as they approach the river. Ramon is indeed missing, but the duo gets in the boat anyways. Wilbur grabs the oar lying in the grass and rows them to the other side.

Tommy checks his watch. It is almost midday.

“Twelve, Wilbur.”

“I suspect that we’ll be here longer than I anticipated,” Wilbur says. “We must find a place to stay for the night.”

The boat bumps against the bank and Tommy hops off. Wilbur alights the boat and leaves it floating in the still waters. He dumps the oar on the grass, and they follow the walled path back to the heart of the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No puzzles in this chapter


	5. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interesting information arises

[There](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUDNnjDnWRg) are significantly fewer people up and about under the blazing sun. The aroma of bread and coffee has Tommy salivating, his stomach rumbling in response to his apparent hunger. It has already been a couple of hours since he had breakfast.

“Wilbur, I can really do with some fish and chips right now.”

“Lunch sounds good,” Wilbur says approvingly. “What say you we stop at the café for a bite? It would be a good place to gather information.”

Well, Tommy can surely leave that part to Wilbur.

“While we partake in our meal, we can solve a couple of puzzles I’ve had roiling about in my head.”

Puzzles. Again? Wilbur has this certain obsession with puzzles, be they simple wordplay, riddles or mathematical problems. Tommy, honestly, doesn’t mind the first two kinds, but Maths does not capture his interest at all.

Wilbur enters the café, the bell overhead jingling welcomingly. It is a quaint little place, floral curtains shielding the interior of the tiny establishment from the glare of the sun’s rays. The floors, tables and chairs are of matching checked patterns, the main warm yellow colour turned ochre with age and rust.

“Welcome,” the owner of the café says, a pitcher of sloshing brown liquid – coffee, presumably – in hand. His nametag reads: Crouton. Imagine being named after a crunchy snack. “Please sit wherever you’d like.”

Wilbur acknowledges that and moves on over to a booth at the far end of the entrance, putting some space between them and a man who is bent over a chessboard, muttering incomprehensibly to himself.

Tommy ends up getting a giant plate of Sunday Roast, while Wilbur keeps his meal simple with a croissant stuffed with seafood filling. Tommy leans back against his seat, already mentally – and emotionally – prepared to face whatever new puzzle Wilbur is going to throw at him.

[ **< Puzzle: Juice pitchers>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

“You know, being in this café has reminded me of a puzzle,” Wilbur says, clasping his fingers in front of him. “Given three pitchers of eight, five and three quarts respectively, and you start with a full eight quarts of coffee in the biggest pitcher. When you pour into any pitcher, you cannot stop pouring until you’ve reached the maximum liquid denoted on the pitcher. How are you going to divide the coffee into four quarts in the eight- and five-quarts pitchers each?”

“You told me this before.” But unfortunately, Tommy doesn’t quite remember the answer. Looks like he’ll just have to suffer through another few minutes of brain games with this man.

Their food arrives promptly and Tommy begins to indulge in his meal, while keeping his mind occupied with those three imaginary pitchers. Meanwhile, Wilbur consumes his croissant with nary a care in the world. That bitch.

“There. Here’s your fucking four quarts,” Tommy mutters. Wilbur raises brow and Tommy proceeds to explain his answer.

“Why’d you have to do that? You could have taken four fewer steps-“

“Oh shut up. I still solved it, eh?” Tommy stabs a broccoli with his fork, staring at it contemplatively.

[“It’s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kAbQTQle78&) a vegetable, Tommy. It has health benefits. I’m sure you passed primary sc-“

“But it’s disgusting, Wilbur.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

“What do you know? You can’t taste anything.”

Wilbur hums, letting that one sail right over his head. Tommy groans but shoves it into his mouth anyway.

“Is everything fine? The food alright?” Crouton walks over to them, his shabby outfit juxtaposing the refined dress code of the manor’s occupants. It’s a refreshing change, to be frank.

“It’s lovely. Thank you,” Wilbur says, kicking Tommy’s foot from under the table. Tommy winces silently, making a mental note to get back at Wilbur later.

“Yeah, thanks,” Tommy mutters.

“That’s great to hear,” Crouton says, chuckling. “You don’t look like you’re from around these parts.”

“We’re from London,” Wilbur replies. “We’ve been summoned by the late Baron Reinhold to search for the treasure he’s left behind.”

“The Golden Apple?” Crouton nods. “I do believe I should wish you luck. There have been many who have come searching but they’ve always left empty-handed.”

“Really?” Wilbur says. “Do you mind elaborating in a bit more detail?”

“Well, for one, the Baron has left no clues. The only mention of his inheritance was in his will,” Crouton says. “Without anything to go off on, it has been a challenge to even begin.”

“I see. What about that tower in the distance?”

“The tower?” Crouton’s expression darkens. Tommy stiffens. That tower, shrouded in mist and viewed from a distance, is undoubtedly spooky. He’s _not_ ready for a thrilling ghost story at the moment.

“Well, there’s been a few rumours flying around,” Crouton says, tapping his finger against his chin. “About how it’s linked to the disappearances. Kidnappings, if you will.”

“Kidnappings?” Wilbur asks, interest sparking across his face.

“Yes. People go missing, but they’ll return about an hour later or so, completely fine with no memory of the abduction,” Crouton says. “It’s rightly strange, and no one can explain it.”

Wilbur hums.

“Although, people began to realize that whenever the mysterious disappearances occur, loud clanking noises have emanated from the tower,” Crouton says. “No one understands the connection, or whether there’s even a connection at all.”

“So when people disappear, the tower makes noises,” Wilbur says.

“Could that be what scared Claudia?” Tommy asks.

“The tower hasn’t rumbled as of late,” Crouton says, shaking his head. “Whatever happened with the Lady’s she-de-“ Crouton clears his throat. “The Lady’s _cat_ , I doubt that it was that.” He narrows his eyes. “It probably goes without saying, but you should stay away from the tower; it’s bad news.”

“I see.” Wilbur nods and flashes him a polite smile. “Thank you for your assistance. You’ve been extremely helpful.”

Crouton returns it and bids them a farewell as they exit the café.

“What could that mean, Wilbur?” Tommy asks, glancing down the streets. He’s never noticed it before, but the silhouette of a Ferris Wheel peeks out over the trees – an amusement park lies behind a set of metal gates and down a path overgrown with weeds. Maybe they can check it out after all this is done and settled.

“I wonder…would it be reasonable to assume that Simon’s murder, the Golden Apple and these disappearances are intricately linked, Tommy?” Wilbur says, folding his arms, putting on what Tommy has named his “thinking face”. It goes by many names, really, Tommy’s personal favourite being “the-face-that-makes-Wilbur-look-smarter-than-he-actually-is”. Not totally accurate, since Wilbur is terribly clever, but it’s the most hilarious of the bunch.

“Maybe.”

Still, the reality of the curious situation has sent a sort of fear coursing through Tommy’s blood. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. Things are getting strange, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Will I get abducted, Wilbur?”

Wilbur must have noticed the apprehension in Tommy’s voice. The slight hint of underlying anxiety that he’s tried to mask. “As long as you stay by my side, I will make sure nothing happens to you. For now, we should-“

“Hey!”

That rasp is familiar. Tommy glances over at the man in the white singlet, jogging over to them, hat bouncing on his head with every step. He’s the drawbridge man.

“What’s the matter?” Wilbur asks.

“You lads…” The man pants. “Have you seen my crank?”

“Your…crank?” Wilbur asks, bewilderment in his tone.

“The one I use to operate the drawbridge,” the man says, cheeks blotched red, the stench of sweat ever so prominent. It’s all Tommy can do not to wrinkle his nose at the odour. “It’s gone missing!”

“Missing.”

“It was there a moment ago, and then I turned my back, and the next thing I knew, it was gone!”

“So people aren’t the only ones disappearing, then?” Tommy whispers. Wilbur doesn’t respond to that.

“Without the crank, can we assume that the village is closed off completely?” Wilbur asks.

“Yes!” The man looks frazzled. “No one can get in or out.”

“Do you know when this happened?”

“About…about an hour or so ago?”

“That was when we were helping to catch Claudia, innit, Wilbur?”

Wilbur nods, narrowing his eyes. “I see. We will keep an eye out for the crank.”

“Thank you,” the man says, their answer unable to quell his frantic heart. “I’ll just…keep on searching.”

With that, he’s gone, huffing and puffing towards the inner parts of town.

“What a strange man,” Tommy says.

“Indeed.” Wilbur turns in the direction the man ran from. “I recall seeing an inn this way, Tommy. Let’s go and book our lodgings for the night.”

“Will they have space left?”

“I can imagine they do. I doubt this place gets many visitors.”

The inn lies a stone’s throw from the café, a cosy little place screaming “country” with its flowerpots and creaky sign and stone steps that lead straight up to the building. Wilbur pushes the door open to find a plump woman in a faded rose dress, seated behind the counter, pen poised over a book of crossword puzzles. A placard on the desk reads: Beatrice.

She looks up when they arrive, a smile gracing her features. She closes her book and stabs her pen back into its holder.

“How may I help you lovely gentlemen on this fine day?”

Tommy puffs his chest out. No one’s called him a “gentleman” before. Except Wilbur when he’s being patronizing.

“We’d like a room, please. Two separate beds,” Wilbur says.

“Of course, of course,” Beatrice says, grabbing a file from the set of drawers beside her. She flips it open and asks for Wilbur’s name and signature.

“Payment will be settled at the end of your stay,” Beatrice says, handing them a key from a jangling ring. “Come now, this way.”

She shows them to a room at the very end of the hallway. It may have been a trick of the light, but Tommy swears he saw a knob with a “Do Not Disturb” door hanger dangling from it.

“Do you think the Inspector stays here too?” Tommy asks.

“Seeing as there’s no way out of the village, he’d have to if he hasn’t booked a room already,” Wilbur says. He twists the key in the hole and the door opens with a smooth arc, hardly making a sound. The room smells of roses with a window that looks out to the commercial street. The café that they had just been to can be seen peeking out from behind a couple of other stores.

“We hope you’ll have a pleasant stay,” Beatrice says. “If you run into any problems, I will just be at the front desk.”

Wilbur thanks her and she ambles off down the hallway.

“Wilbur, I want this bed.”

Tommy throws himself onto the bed nearest the door, leaving Wilbur with the one by the window.

“That way, if someone comes to kidnap me, they’ll kidnap you first.”

Wilbur sighs. “I swear, the audacity of this child…”

“It’s called ‘having big brains’, Wilbur. Big brains for a big man,” Tommy says, tapping his noggin. Wilbur pads over to the window and glances out of it for a mere second before striding back to the door.

“Come on, Tommy. We’ve got lots to do.”

“Oh.” Tommy peels himself off the bed. There’s no arguing with Wilbur when he gets like this. When he gets in the mood for some “good, old investigation”, like he says. Wilbur locks the door behind them, and they head back out into the quiet town.

*

[“This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WdfU1avCqPA&) whole thing, Tommy, is like a giant puzzle,” Wilbur says. They make their way under the giant clock tower that serves as the only connection between the outer rings of this town and the inner societies. The alleyway is dark, awnings over their heads to keep the sun out of their eyes. Unfortunately, none of the stores lining the street seem to be open at this time of the day.

“It’s a nonsensical one.”

“No matter how nonsensical it may seem, every puzzle must have a solution, Tommy. As long as we keep at it, be consistent and make sense of all the clues that we’ve been given, we’ll be able to figure out the whole truth.”

Tommy isn’t so sure about that, but at this point, he has no choice but to trust Wilbur’s instincts.

The inner part of town is no cleaner, with ropes of dirty laundry hanging from one window to the next. Pieces of newspapers and tabloids rustle as they drift about like tumbleweeds.

“Hey, isn’t that-“ Tommy starts, staring at a piece of crumpled newspaper on the ground. He picks it up and squints at it. “Isn’t this Inspector Halo?”

Wilbur peers over Tommy’s shoulder. “That _is_ him.”

“Inspector Halo nabs yet another criminal; the star of Scotland Yard strikes again.” Seriously? The star of Scotland Yard with an attitude like that?

“Oh, look, he likes sweet things,” Wilbur says, pointing out a block of text. “‘Always celebrates the end of a case with a plate of his favourite chocolate chip muffins that his assistant, Skeppy, bakes.”

“Weird taste for a weird man.”

“Really? I thought it’s a really normal food to like,” Wilbur says.

“Well, I wouldn’t know.” Tommy squashes the piece of newspaper and thrusts it into the nearest trash bin, a green metal container with its lid removed. Great, now the article’s got him thinking about banana muffins and blueberry cupcakes…

“Come on, we don’t have time to waste. We should ask around about a couple of things.”

“Like what? The disappearances and the tower?”

“Precisely. And, well, some other things on my mind,” Wilbur says.

The residential area of the village is relatively empty, compared to the buzz of activity resounding from the marketplace not far from where they stand. Perhaps a location bustling with activity would yield some useful information.

Tommy’s mind begins to wander as he gazes at the various wares on sale. His eyes gloss over the usual things: fruits, vegetables, slabs of meat and fish. There are also other items such as handmade wooden toys and gardening equipment that Tommy doesn’t particularly have a vested interest in.

“Hey! You!”

Wilbur bristles at that. Tommy stifles a giggle. Wilbur _hates_ being referred to as “You”. “I have a name,” he said. “Or they could have said ‘Excuse me’.”

Wilbur turns at the sound, noticing a man in a soiled apron walking up to him, a blue beret perched atop his head. He carries what appears to be a vase in hand, azure like the colour of the sky and rimmed with viridian.

He shoves it into Wilbur’s hands.

“This yours, sonny?” the man asks, hands on his hips.

“I apologize, but I’ve never seen this in my entire life,” Wilbur says, making much effort to rein in his annoyance. The man is either outright ignoring him or actually oblivious. He snatches it back from Wilbur, inspecting the vase like an expert.

“Funny. This strange man came by and told me that you were looking for this,” the man says. “The two outsider lads, he said. Must be you two. We haven’t had visitors for months.”

Wilbur opens his mouth to answer, but the man cuts him off with a dismissive wave. “Doesn’t matter, I suppose. He must have gotten the wrong two lads.”

Now that Tommy gets a closer look at the vase, he’s fairly certain he’s seen it before. Somewhere. It’s hidden deep in the recesses of his memory, but try as he might, he can’t seem to pinpoint exactly where.

“Sorry about that,” the man says, scratching his head. “Hope I can make it up to you somehow.”

“How about providing some information?” Wilbur asks, tilting his head.

“Information, huh?” the man folds his arms. “I’m not so sure about that, sonny.”

“You wanted to make it up to us!”

“Bah. Information is a whole ‘nother thing altogether, my good boy,” the man says. “I only wasted your time a little, and information doesn’t come cheap.”

“Come on, Tommy. Let’s go somewhere-”

“No! Wait!” The man grabs Wilbur’s shoulder, the latter jolting. “I-I’ll give you the good stuff, alright? Like…like…I know the Baron’s good friend ‘round these parts. You two are looking for the Golden Apple, right?”

Wilbur’s eyes sparkle. “A friend of the Baron’s?”

“Yes! Yes!” The man nods enthusiastically. “But you see, sonnies, I have a bit of a problem on my hands.”

“What kind of problem are we talking?” Wilbur asks. If this man truly has such information, then they might be able to quickly proceed with their investigation. After all, an old friend of the Baron’s may know something about his secretive treasure.

“It’s a puzzle that I can’t seem to wrap my head around,” the man says, plucking at his moustache. “You two look like some bright bulbs. Mind helping an old man out?”

Oh no. Tommy glances up at Wilbur, groaning internally when he sees the literal glow on his face. That word “puzzle” is not to be used lightly around his companion. It carries just so much power.

“Of course. I’d be glad to help.” No doubt Wilbur’s impression of this stallholder has just done a one-eighty. “What might be your problem, good sir?”

“Well, you see, Agnes over there,” the man says, glaring at a woman who’s selling carvings just a couple of stores down, “wants to torture me with her blasted puzzle. It’s about candles, mind you. Hope you don’t have any grievances with them.”

“No, no. I’m fine with candles.”

[ **< Puzzle: How Many Are Left?>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U)

The man nods approvingly. “Good, good. Imagine you have a room of ten candles. A strong breeze blows in through an open window and extinguishes two of them. Now, you run to all the open windows and close them. Unfortunately, when you come back, it appears that the wind has extinguished another candle of yours.”

“Assuming that the wind doesn’t extinguish any more candles, how many candles are left,” Wilbur finishes. “That’s your question, right?”

The man blinks in surprise. “You’re a smart chap, aren’t you?”

“The answer’s simple.”

Tommy frowns. “Isn’t it seven, Wilbur?”

Wilbur blinks at him, before bursting out in laughter.

“This is why you’re still a child, Tommy.”

“Hey, I thought it was seven too,” the stallholder says bitterly.

“Isn’t it ten minus three?” Tommy asks.

“Not quite,” Wilbur clucks his tongue. “At the very end of your hypothetical scenario, you will have three candles left. Consider the crucial wording of the question, and therein lies your answer.”

The wording?

[“Well,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WdfU1avCqPA&) I’m just gonna have to take your word for it,” the man says, shrugging. “And I guess you’ve held up your end of the bargain.”

“Yes. We’d like to know who this friend was,” Wilbur says.

“This is just a rumour I’ve heard, but this friend’s name is Archibald,” the man says. “He used to be on very good terms with the Baron before his demise.”

“Where may we find Archibald?” Wilbur asks.

“He usually hangs out near the clock tower about now,” the man says. “Tall. Greying hair, red specs. Can’t miss him.”

“Thank you,” Wilbur says. “Also, have you seen a man named Ramon around here?”

“Ramon? One of them Baron’s servants?”

“Yeah. The thick-lipped one.”

The man rubs his chin. “Can’t say. Must have wandered off, that brainless dolt of a man.”

Brainless dolt. What an apt description, Tommy must say.

Wilbur nods. “One more thing. Do you know anything about that tower?”

“That tower?” The man frowns. “I don’t like it. Every time someone disappears, it makes a noise so loud it keeps me up at night.”

“Disappeared, hmm? What do you know of these disappearances?” Wilbur asks.

“Well…” The man casts shady glances around, as if making sure there’s no one listening. He lowers his voice and beckons them nearer. “You see, this isn’t something I’m all too sure about, but I’ve noticed that when people complain of aches, they disappear a few hours later.”

“Complaining of aches?” Wilbur asks.

The man nods. “But then they come back, and they don’t even remember the ache at all. Or even the fact that someone took them away.”

That piece of information matches up with whatever Crouton told them, but a new clue has come to light. The people who disappear are those who tend to complain of aches around their backs or joints. Tommy reminds himself never to talk about his sore legs. Even when he’s walking about all day.

“That’s all I got to say,” the man says. “You’d best be going to find Archibald now.”

Wilbur thanks him and begins to lead Tommy back down through the marketplace, headed straight for the clock tower. This man is their only lead; they can’t afford to lose him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzles in this Chapter:  
> Juice Pitchers  
> How Many Are Left?


	6. The Baron's Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter leaves them with a new lead

[As expected](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WdfU1avCqPA&), someone sits on a rusted metal bench outside a row of houses and shops, newspapers clutched in hand. He hums tunelessly as he reads the papers, engrossed in the news.

“Might you, by chance, be Archibald?”

The man looks up and lowers his spectacles. Scarlet spectacles, check. Greying hair, check. His handlebar moustache is even thicker than that stallholder, which is saying something.

“That I am,” Archibald says, casting them a suspicious gaze. “How did you come to know my name?”

“We met a man at the market. A rather talkative and crass man,” Wilbur says. “He was the one who told us of your relation to the Baron.”

Archibald nods. “I did know the Baron. You could say we were bosom buddies.” He pauses, eyeing them inquisitively. “Is this regarding the Golden Apple?”

Spot on. “Yes.”

“I see. Then there’s something you might be interested in,” Archibald says. “But I can’t give it away willy-nilly like that.”

“Is there anything we can do to prove our sincerity?”

“Well, it’s not just a matter of sincerity, but I can consider showing it to you if you’d solve this puzzle for me,” Archibald says. Tommy’s come to expect this by now.

[ **< Puzzle: Truth and Lies>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

“So, there are three people: A, B and C. One of these three tells the truth, while the other two lie. Based on their statements, I need you to determine which one of them is telling the truth.”

Wilbur nods.

“So A says: ‘I never lie.’ B says, ‘A is lying. I’m the one telling the truth.’ Finally, C says, ‘B is lying. I’m the honest one.’”

Wilbur hums, staring at the ground, deep in thought. “Well, thinking through it logically, the answer has to be B.”

Archibald gives them a smile of approval. “Come on in.”

[He stands](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kAbQTQle78&), folding and tucking the newspaper under his arm, inviting the duo into his house. The door shuts behind them.

Archibald’s home smells strongly of wood. Wood and books. The house is hardly cluttered, his furniture simple but elegant. He possesses the bare minimum: a bookshelf half-filled standing in a corner beside a study desk, a four-poster bed shielded by thin veils and a window with a good view of the marketplace.

“Over here,” Archibald says, beckoning them towards the desk. “This here belonged to the late Baron.” He reaches into the desk drawer and fishes out an envelope, which he hands to Wilbur.

“May we read it?”

“Of course.” Archibald says. “He told me to give it to those who are searching for the Golden Apple. But only those who sought me out.”

What is that supposed to mean? Is the Baron playing some elaborate game?

“Do you know anything about it?” Tommy asks. “The, um, Golden Apple.”

“The Baron was, unfortunately for us, very secretive about what he did with his inheritance,” Archibald says, sighing. “Even regarding his family matters, now that I think about it. No one even knows where his dear Tubbo went.”

“Tubbo?” Tommy asks, perking up. Is this a new lead?

Wilbur appears not to have heard them, concentrating his attention on the contents of the letter.

“The Baron’s son,” Archibald says. “He went missing after the Baron’s death.”

“Lady Dahlia never said anything about him.” But now that Tommy thinks about it, he _may_ have seen this Tubbo somewhere before…could it be one of those portraits hung up on the walls in the manor? They’d have to go back and give those another once-over.

“Rumours are that she’s put him on the streets to keep the fortune for herself,” Archibald says, a sense of disdain in his tone. “Of course, not that we’d believe such lies, but there is always a reason rumours exist, you know?”

Despite her outburst when Claudia had leapt from her arms, Tommy cannot quite see Lady Dahlia leaving a hapless boy to fend for himself. Still, on the small chance that that was the case, could one of the people they’d passed by at the market be the boy himself?

“Mind if we take this, Mr Archibald?” Wilbur asks, slipping the letter back into the envelope.

“It’s all yours.”

“The mystery has deepened, Tommy, though I can feel that we are at the cusp of clearing the fog of mystery,” Wilbur says. “Come on. There’s one place I’d like to visit before we retire for the day.”

“Okay.”

The duo bid a swift farewell to Archibald before exiting his humble abode, abound for the one place that Wilbur has in mind.

*

[“Where](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0ntmd0m4bg) are we going, Wilbur?” Tommy asks, plodding after him as Wilbur follows a winding cobblestone path that passes by deserted shops and empty houses. They’ve just bypassed the marketplace, headed down a narrow path that seems to bring them closer and closer to the ghostly tower.

Tommy has a sinking feeling.

“Where the villagers have warned us to stay away from,” Wilbur says. “Out of the whole village, this tower is the place that we have the least information on.”

That’s true, but Tommy still can’t rid himself of his apprehension. Just what will they find there? Could it be the Golden Apple?

Tommy hopes that they’ve installed an elevator or something if the Apple really _is_ at the top of it.

As they near the tower, a sense of paranoia seizes him. Makes his chest clench. Why is it that he cannot quite shake the feeling that someone is _watching_ them? He stays on Wilbur’s heel, lamenting the latter’s offensively long legs. He has to jog at times to keep up when Wilbur gets excited.

Tommy gulps as they approach a brick wall which stands between them and the tower. Now that they’re up close, it’s even more foreboding, more sinister. Every step towards it sends a chill up Tommy’s spine. He’s never good with the supernatural, be it any form of media.

Wilbur approaches it with no problem at all. He presses a palm flat on the wall, tilting his head in contemplation. A new puzzle has presented itself, and Tommy knows better than to distract his companion in the middle of his thoughts.

“E-Excuse me.”

A meek voice from behind him has Tommy turning his head. A boy stands before them, donning a headscarf and a pair of brown spectacles. He wears a green tunic and a pair of blue trousers, eyeing them with a discerning gaze.

“And who might you be?” Wilbur asks, attention on the wall deviated to entertain this intruder of his thoughts. Still, his voice carries pleasantness. Tommy scuffs his soles against the ground. Wilbur would never give him the time of day if Tommy even so much as _tried_ to speak to him during these moments of rumination.

“Um…I’d…I’d rather not say,” the boy says, fidgeting. “Are you looking for the Golden Apple?”

“That we are,” Wilbur says, nodding. “Can you help us?”

The boy hesitates, staring at the ground. All of a sudden, he throws his head about, as if noticing something. Before Tommy knows what’s happening, the boy takes off back down the path they came from, footsteps thundering against the cobblestone.

“Wait!” Wilbur starts, taken aback as well at his reaction. What had spooked the boy? Within seconds, the boy is long gone, leaving no trace of his existence.

Except for a slip of paper that had flown out of his pocket, drifting silently to the ground like a leaf. Tommy picks it up. It’s a tattered ticket, yet unused. It depicts a young boy, whose appearance matches that of the portrait that Tommy viewed in the manor, holding a bunch of technicolour balloons in hand, the brightest smile on his face.

This must be a young Tubbo, son of the Baron.

“Is that a ticket to the fairground?” Wilbur asks.

“Maybe. Do you reckon he trying to tell us something?” Tommy asks, stuffing the ticket into his pocket.

Wilbur purses his lips. “The fairground may hold some much-needed clues.”

The last time they passed by the amusement park, its gates had been locked. There’s no harm in trying, he supposes.

“Tomorrow,” Wilbur says. “We shall venture out into the fairground tomorrow.”

“Are we going back to the inn now?”

“We will go back and have a quick shower, then we can hunt for dinner.”

*

[“Wilbur.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRSIzXEVSs4)

“What is it?”

Tommy spears his slab of meat and shoves it into his mouth, the thick sauce dribbling down his chin. Wilbur tosses him a napkin.

“You know the letter you got from Archibald just now?”

“Yea?”

“What did it say?”

Wilbur fishes it from his pocket and hands it over to Tommy, who receives it with a hand not covered in sauce. Elegant cursive graces the crisp paper, splotches of yellow bloomed all over it. Thankfully, the words are still readable.

_Dear Violet,_

_Soon, I will join you in your otherworldly realm. Is it beautiful there? I can imagine so. After all, it is the final resting place for a soul so wonderful. Tubbo is growing up into a fine young man, don_ _’_ _t you worry. He is a shining beacon of light and brightens my day whenever I see him._

_My only regret is that upon my departure from this world is that I would be leaving our son behind without a living relative. I worry every second in the day for his safety, for his health, and most importantly, his happiness._

_No matter what happens to this body of mine, I will ensure that in due time, our boy will find someone willing to take care of him, someone who is able to provide for him and give him the greatest gift of joy._

_I entrust the final touches of this massive project to Bruno. He will see to it that our son finds a guardian that rightly deserves him. This may be the last letter I would write to you before I see you again, my dear Violet._

_Augustus_

It’s a touching letter, and Tommy’d be damned if he lets his heart get swayed by that. He has a reputation to maintain after all. He hands the letter back to Wilbur.

“Isn’t the Baron’s wife called Dahlia?” Tommy says. “Why’d he write Violet over here?”

“Lady Violet must be the name of his deceased wife,” Wilbur says. He purses his lips, as if a thought suddenly occurred to him. This whole case is bizarre, Tommy thinks. Now they’ve got a dead wife in the mix.

“You know, I reckon it’s all very strange,” Tommy says. “Like, why’d the Baron ask Big A to give us the letter addressed to his dead wife?”

“I was wondering about that too,” Wilbur says, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, the answers are out of our grasp right now.”

“Besides, who’s this Bruno guy?”

Wilbur shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

So there’s this guy called Bruno who’s supposed to assist the Baron in finding a suitable guardian for his son, Tubbo. Wonder how that went. Tommy chomps down on another slab of meat. It looks like they have a lot to do tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzles in this Chapter:   
> Truth and Lies


	7. The Abandoned Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visiting the amusement park yields...interesting clues

[The](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vW4yf6jX2bg) night passes by uneventfully. Tommy is the first to rise with the sun in his face filtering through the stained glass of the window. He rubs at his eyes, picking at the crust formed at the corners.

“Oi. Wilbur. Get up,” Tommy says, kicking at his back. “It’s morning and I’m hungry.”

“You are always…” Wilbur mutters groggily. “You are always hungry, you fucking child.”

“Call me a child again, Wilbur, and I wouldn’t know what I’d do.”

Wilbur yawns, stretching as he pumps his fists into the air, his hair all over the place. Picture perfect, Tommy’d say.

“That threat would have been ten times more effective if you didn’t say that to me at least once a day,” Wilbur mumbles. Tommy is the first to dash into the bathroom, grabbing a hold of the complementary toothbrush and toothpaste.

Within a couple of minutes, he and Wilbur have freshened up and are primed to go. Beatrice is tending to her paperwork when they leave, waving them a hearty goodbye as they step out of the inn and bathe in the chilly air of the morning of St. Mystere.

*

“It’s still locked,” Tommy mutters, rattling the rusted gates. It appears loose on its hinges, but even then, Tommy doesn’t think he has the strength to rip them away.

“Opening hours: ten to five,” Wilbur reads the ratty sign hung on the gate’s bars.

“But it’s already ten.”

“Looking at the state of…of whatever we can see,” Wilbur says, “I don’t think this amusement park has been in use for a long time now.”

“Then why did that boy ask us to come here?” Tommy asks, giving the gate a frustrated kick. “You think he was playing a trick on us?”

“Tommy,” Wilbur reprimands. Tommy puffs his cheeks out and Wilbur chooses to ignore it. “Tommy, I think the boy did leave us a message here, and by hook or by crook, we will have to find a way past this gate.”

“You guys wanna get into the park?”

The chirpy voice belongs to a girl about Tommy’s height, dark hair falling past her shoulders in waves. She is dressed in a crop top and a pair of dainty shorts – a far cry from that of the other inhabitants of this fine town.

“That’s, like, totally impossible. No one’s, like, been there for ages,” the girl says with a wide grin.

“Impossible?” Wilbur raises a brow. “You sound like you know a thing or two.”

“Maybe, or maybe not,” the girl singsongs. “You know how things go in this town. You solve me a puzzle and I’ll give you info. Deal?”

What’s with this town and puzzles? As much as they hunger for information, Tommy will leave this one up to Wilbur – he’s the puzzle master after all.

[ **< Puzzle: OTTF?>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

“Okay, so here’s the thing. I have a sequence of letters and they follow a certain rule,” the girl says. “Your job is to figure out what the fifth letter is. Get it?”

Wilbur nods. “I understand.”

“Okay, so the first four letters are: O, T, T, F. The last five letters are: S, S, E, N, T.”

What the fuck. What kind of weird code language is that? Tommy glances at Wilbur and he can almost see the gears turning in his head. Has Wilbur already worked out the answer?

“The letter is F,” Wilbur says automatically. The girl smiles happily and claps.

“Wowza. I didn’t expect you to solve it so quick.” The girl beams. “But you’ve got it right.”

Tommy has got to convince Wilbur to explain it to him later.

“Okay, so there’s only one guy who has the key to the park,” the girl says. “He’s usually hanging out in the sewers. Oh, and his name’s Sylvain.”

The girl skips off, leaving the duo standing in the middle of the street with similar disgusted expressions on their faces. Must they explore such a dark and dank place?

Well, Tommy thinks, as he watches Wilbur lift a loose manhole cover from the ground. He prays to whatever deity is watching over them that the girl did not just send them on a wild goose chase.

*

[“It stinks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9taB8JZ_Rs), Wilbur.”

“Stop complaining, Tommy. We’ve barely been here for five minutes.”

“It’s cold and dark and smelly. Like a skunk that just farted.”

Wilbur barks out a laugh. Well, at least they’ve still got humour going for them, even though they may have just tossed their dignity into the sewage. Tommy can hardly bring himself to look at the revolting river of trash flowing on by them.

The lights flicker. Bugs flit about, embracing the stench of the sewers. Tommy swats at a few that buzz too close to his face, while Wilbur pushes on like it’s no big deal. Water drips from the ceiling, a single drop plopping onto Tommy’s nose.

“Is that…?”

They seem to have reached the ends of the sewers, and a man stands at the very end of it with a wrench in hand. He gazes upon a strange symbol carved into the wall, lips pouted.

“Excuse me,” Wilbur calls. “Are you Sylvain?”

The man looks up, schooling his expression into a pleasant smile. “You’ve found him. What can I do for you, mate?”

“We need to access the fairground. The amusement park, that is.”

“I see, I see.” Sylvain says with a deep sigh. “I’d love to help you, but I’ve got a bit of a pickle on my hands.”

Tommy suppresses the urge to groan. Is it yet another puzzle?

“We’d be happy to help,” Wilbur says. Anything to gain access to their only lead, probably.

“Excellent.” Sylvain’s eyes light up. He taps the symbol on the wall. “My wife has challenged me to solve this puzzle, but I can’t seem to make heads or tails of it.”

“Mind if we take a look?”

Tommy turns his attention to the symbol, but he shares in Sylvain’s sentiments.

[ **< Puzzle: Squares and Circles>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9taB8JZ_Rs)

“It’s all yours.” Sylvain says, leaning back against his heels. “The question is: ‘How much bigger is the larger square than the smaller one?’ Look, I appreciate puzzles and all, but…”

“The answer is four,” Wilbur says, tapping a finger against the symbol. “Because of this over here.” He proceeds to explain the solution, step by step, in such a simplistic manner that compels Tommy to slam his forehead repeatedly against the brick wall. Then again, this is probably why Tommy has only attained a Grade Eight in Mathematics.

“I see,” Sylvain says, nodding. “You’ve got a mighty fine head on your shoulders, lad. Now, what’d you need? Access to the amusement park, right?”

“Yes.”

[“People](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9taB8JZ_Rs) don’t go there anymore, not ever since the Baron’s death,” Sylvain says. He reaches for a jingling set of keys by his belt. “Come on, now. I’ll come with you.”

The trio make their way up from the manhole where they came down from, and Tommy is relieved to be back on the surface. If he stayed down there any longer, he’d probably have evolved to possess the ability to use ultrasound and flapping wings. Like a bat.

Sylvain places the manhole cover loosely back on the hole and brings them to the gate over at the amusement park. He unlocks it and tucks the keys back into his pocket.

“The Baron built this amusement park for his boy?” Wilbur asks.

“Indeed he has,” Sylvain says. “Tubbo was his pride and joy.”

“And yet he’s gone missing?” Wilbur asks.

Sylvain pauses at that. shaking his head. “No one knows where he’s went. Perhaps abandoned by Lady Dahlia. Perhaps taken by the kidnapper.”

Wilbur hums. Sylvain waves goodbye to them and saunters back down the streets.

“Do you think Tubbo could be…dead, Wilbur?” Tommy asks.

“It’s too soon to tell, but my intuition is telling me that he is alive and well,” Wilbur says. “However, I do think that Tubbo himself is linked in some way or other to the Golden Apple.”

“Really.” From Tommy’s past experiences, he’s learned to trust Wilbur’s hunches when it comes to these things.

“We should put our musings aside and focus on the task at hand,” Wilbur says, slipping past the heavy metal gates and into the abandoned amusement park. Tommy doesn’t like the looks of it, nor does he appreciate the eerie silence of the park.

Still, he follows Wilbur through the gates, a thrum of anticipation coursing through his veins.

Just what hidden truths will the amusement park reveal?

*

[The](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PVRRdPXay8) park grounds are littered with trash, bundles of newspapers and ripped posters lying in the bushes, plastered to the earth. Nature has claimed most of the stalls and rides, even the giant Ferris Wheel at the furthest end of the park, with an overpopulation of weeds and bugs. The ground upon which they walk crawls with insects, some winged, some armed with numerous legs.

The sun’s rays scorching their backs as they make their way further into the park. Tommy wishes that they’d be able to complete their investigation of the deserted park soon. He doesn’t want to fall victim to any ghost that linger between this world and the hereafter.

“You think we can ride any of these?” Tommy asks, squinting at a roller coaster resting in eternal slumber, its metallic body overgrown with creepers.

“Be my guest,” Wilbur mutters.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy spots a strange grey house complete with a brown, brick roof, standing at the edge of a serene lake. It looks like something out of an industrial district, or a factory, its interior guarded with a barred gate. A padlock glints mockingly in the sun.

“What’s that?” Tommy gestures at it, catching Wilbur’s attention with a tug of his arm.

Wilbur’s curiosity has been piqued, because he changes his course, opting to pander on over to the strange little house.

“Maybe something to do with the inner workings of this fairground,” Wilbur says. “Like, where they keep all those mascot outfits.”

The word sends shivers up Tommy’s spine. He’s played Five Nights at Freddy’s and he knows _exactly_ what mascots entail. He’s suddenly extremely glad that they are kept locked up in that tiny house, then.

Tommy bumps into Wilbur’s back, yelping. He rubs at his smarting nose, noticing that Wilbur has stopped in front of the grand Ferris Wheel. Its brightly-coloured cars are rusted with age and disuse. The Wheel certainly goes high; they’d have no problems viewing the village in its entirety from the very top.

“There’s nothing here, Wilbur. Can we go back now?”

Tommy knows that Wilbur hates it when he is beat. That boy was probably feeding them lies, the ticket a mere red herring. The next time Tommy sees him…

“Let’s head back to the manor. I’ve got quite a few things I’d like to ask the Lady,” Wilbur says, turning his back to the Ferris Wheel.

Just as Tommy starts after Wilbur, a telling creak grabs his attention. He spins on his heels, staring wide-eyed at the Ferris Wheel rattling all on its own, rocking and shaking in its metallic constraints.

[“What the-”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NE_WVSv4sVo&)

“Wilbur! I think we have to run!” Tommy shouts, grabbing Wilbur’s arm and dragging him down the path. The Ferris Wheel breaks loose, clanging as it rolls against the dirt, picking up speed.

“Wilbur…it…” Tommy gasps for air. “I think it’s…it’s following us!”

“Preposterous!” Wilbur shouts back, breathless. He and Tommy turn down the path leading up to the shack by the peaceful lake. Tommy wants to pinch himself, because he swears he catches sight of the Ferris Wheel making a fucking _turn_! Its iron body screeches against the path like a car against asphalt, cracking and splintering trees and branches in its wake.

It’s definitely chasing them. No doubt about it.

“Tommy!”

A sudden weight shoves Tommy to the side. Wilbur’s arms are tight around him, his body shielding him against the roughness of the ground as they roll away into the foliage. The Ferris Wheel crashes into the shack, tearing it apart. The roof and half the dented door splash into the lake along with the metal monster. The Ferris Wheel moves no more, what with majority of it submerged.

“Oh my fucking God,” Tommy cries. Wilbur is the first on his feet, striding over to the lake’s edge. Well, that’s rude; he didn’t even offer to help Tommy up. Tommy scrambles to his feet and follows his friend, the two of them gazing at the Ferris Wheel as it lies, motionless, in the water.

[“Wilbur,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PVRRdPXay8&) that Ferris Wheel was definitely chasing us and I think this place is haunted and the ghosts don’t like us here!” Tommy rambles. “We should leave. Now.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, Tommy,” Wilbur says. Tommy splutters. How can Wilbur ever explain what just happened? Scientifically, as he likes to say? They just got chased down by a Ferris Wheel, of all things!

Wilbur turns his attention to the shack that the Ferris Wheel had run down. With the bars out of the way, the lock mangled upon impact, they should be able to proceed into the shack, down the ladder into the ground. This doesn’t seem like something an amusement park would have, even for an employee area.

Tommy’s stomach sinks when Wilbur approaches the shack. His body jerks upon imagining the curl of icy, ghostly fingers against the back of his neck. A mere glance dispels the trick his fearful heart played on his mind.

“We’re not going down there, are we, Wilbur?” Tommy asks, praying with all his heart that the answer would be no.

Unfortunately, Wilbur is already halfway down the ladder, the sounds of his soles against the rungs ringing out in the quiet fairground.

“You can stay up there if you’d like.”

In this deserted park? Where the only company is the chirp of crickets? What if a ghost girl appears from behind a tree and…and… Tommy squashes down the shivers that crawl under his skin like maggots.

“No, I’m coming with you. I’m not staying up here and offering my soul to a ghost girl, Wilbur.”

Wilbur’s laugh resonates through the narrow hole that tunnels as deep as the eye can see. Tommy swallows thickly, fingers curling around the ladder. After testing its stability, he follows Wilbur, taking one careful step at a time.

*

[The hole](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUmG-iLxF_8) reminds Tommy of the sewers, minus the stench and the garbage. He’s never noticed just how tightly he’s gripped the ladder till he releases it, fingers all sore and tensed. Wilbur, on the other hand, is already inspecting a picture hung up on the wall.

“What’s that?” Tommy asks.

“A puzzle,” Wilbur says, squinting at the strange symbols of black, grey, and white. A blue star is etched into the wall on its right.

[ **< Puzzle: Find a Star>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

[ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

“This is impossible, Wilbur.”

“Think of it as a visual exercise.”

Tommy decides to leave him to it, instead choosing to inspect the area. The floors and walls are of a bland, beige colour. There are no obvious doors or windows in sight. A bucket lies on its side, a puddle of water pooled around it. Maybe this place has long been abandoned, and that they’ve been chasing a dead lead.

“Here.” Wilbur traces the outline of the star with his finger. Upon completion, the star begins to glow. The wall rumbles, showering them in dust and dirt as it slides inwards, as if swinging on a hinge. It reveals a long, featureless corridor, water dripping from the moist ceiling. This corridor must be passing under the giant lake of the amusement park, right by where the shack stood.

[“Come](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUmG-iLxF_8) on. Let’s go.” Wilbur boldly marches forth, unafraid of whatever lies ahead. Unwilling to be left behind, Tommy matches Wilbur’s pace, scrunching his nose up at the walls covered in grime. He wonders how long it’s been since someone was last here.

The corridor ends at a room formed of concrete, a sofa, some drawers and a closet standing against the wall at the far end. Several pictures hang on the wall, a mirror opposite them. Tommy pointedly averts his gaze from it.

“There’s something here,” Wilbur says, noticing something small balanced precariously on the edge of the set of drawers. He picks it up, scrutinizing it with one eye closed.

“What’s that?” Tommy asks, grabbing at it, but Wilbur snatches it from his reach.

“A key,” Wilbur says. He pinches it between his fingers, the key no bigger than that of their inn’s room key. The key’s grip takes on the shape of the foreboding tower, a stark contrast to the golden sparkle of its teeth.

“You think…” Tommy starts.

“It’s getting late in the afternoon,” Wilbur says, pocketing the key, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Let’s go get some lunch and then we can pursue this lead, hmm?”

Tommy nods. That whole endeavour has left him exhausted and ravenous. They can find a cosy place still open for lunch. Grant the vehicles of his body some much-needed rest.

“Before we seek out a diner, there is someplace I’d like to visit first,” Wilbur says. “There has been a strange feeling nagging at me and a desperate need to quell it.”

Wilbur brushes past Tommy as they make their way back up aboveground, footsteps the only sound against the damp floorboards.

“Are we going to get lunch after? I’m starving, Wilbur.”

“I saw a bakery near our inn. Some bread should be able to tie you over for now.”

Tommy sighs. The flaps of Wilbur’s coat swishing around his friend as Wilbur steps foot on the rungs of the ladder, hoisting himself up and out of that dingy underground chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzles in this Chapter:   
> Squares and Circles  
> Find the Star


	8. Men in Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious abductor...?

[“Sirs!”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zH8pn_BuR4U&)

Matthew is the one to greet them at the manor, significantly less vexed than before. Has the Inspector already arrested Ramon and led him away?

“I don’t suppose you’ve found Ramon, have you?” Matthew asks. Oh, guess not, then. Tommy immediately rids himself of his prior assumption.

“No. Is he still missing?” Wilbur asks.

“I’m afraid so,” Matthew says, sighing. “The Lady has been beside herself with worry.”

“Speaking of the Lady, Matthew,” Wilbur says. “Do you know of a certain Tubbo Reinhold?”

“Tubbo…” Matthew’s eyes widen. “How do you know of that name?”

“There was a portrait upon the wall in the manor depicting the young master,” Wilbur says. “The heir to the inheritance. After several interviews around town, we have surmised that the boy has mysteriously gone missing.”

An idea pops into Tommy’s head. Could Tubbo have been kidnapped by the unknown abductor as well? He frowns. That train of thought comes to a standstill before it had the chance to take off: the villagers who had gone missing had reappeared, albeit without any memory of what happened. Tubbo has not been seen by anyone ever since he’s been reported missing, so that rules out that possibility.

“Well…yes. The boy _has_ disappeared. Ever since the Baron’s death. He didn’t quite take to Lady Dahlia as well as he did his own mother.”

“Lady Dahlia wasn’t his mother,” Wilbur states.

Matthew shakes his head vigorously. “Heavens, no. The young master’s mother had been the late Lady Violet.”

Lady Violet! Tommy knows that name! It was in that letter that the Baron had written to his late wife.

“Lady Violet?”

“Indeed,” Matthew says. “The Baron had two wives, you see. Lady Violet passed on shortly after she gave birth to the young master. The Baron had been inconsolable for the longest time, and the young master grew up without a mother.”

Tommy can’t imagine what it’d be like spending his childhood without his mother. Now that his father is dead as well, Tubbo must be extremely lonely.

“I’m curious as to why the Baron never bothered telling me,” Wilbur says, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice. It is gone as quickly as it had come, in a fraction of a second.

“Actually, about Lady Violet…I am just about to go and visit her grave,” Matthew says. “Ever since Ingrid left, I’ve been the only one taking care of it.”

“She’s buried around here?”

“The late Lady? Why, yes,” Matthew says. “Would you like to come with?”

“If it is convenient.”

“As you are a friend of the late Baron, I doubt he will mind,” Matthew says. “Come along now.”

Tommy remembers this path. It had been the one they followed the day before when they had tried to catch Claudia. The trampled flowers remain – the housekeepers probably didn’t have time to clean them up. Matthew stops before a hedge by a familiar set of stairs that descends into a chamber, its door emblazoned by a cross.

This door leads to Lady Violet’s grave. This is where the body of Baron Reinhold’s late wife lies, so close to home.

“This way, please,” Matthew calls from the bottom of the stairs. Wilbur and Tommy climb down slowly, careful not to lose their balance on the carpet of moss that blankets the broad steps. Matthew turns a golden brass key in the keyhole and he shoves his shoulder against the door. The door slides roughly against the rugged cobblestone floor, revealing what must be the most alluring room that Tommy’s ever had the pleasure of setting foot in.

“This is…”

[The](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jg4UsJDgucg) round brims of the flowerbeds are the prettiest shade of ruby red, its sharpness contrasting the soft glow of the lilies and orchids. A gravestone stands in the very middle of the room accompanied by a statue of a woman who bears a startling resemblance to Lady Dahlia.

“This is Lady Violet?” Wilbur asks.

“Yes,” Matthew says, kneeling by the grave. A photograph lays by the gravestone, framed with garnished brown wood. Upon closer inspection, the photograph depicts a woman holding a babe against her chest, a genuine smile on her face as she regards two people – one of them being Matthew, and the other a woman that he’s never seen before.

“Are Ladies Violet and Dahlia sisters, by any chance?” Wilbur asks.

Matthew hums. “I’m afraid not, though I must admit that they do look the part. After Lady Violet passed away, the Baron appeared with Lady Dahlia at his arm. We were shocked as well, not just because of the Baron’s sudden recovery from his grief, but…well, I’m sure you understand.”

Wilbur nods. Tommy knows what he’s thinking. This is too much of a coincidence for it to be mere happenstance. Embraced by the chamber’s serenity, it feels almost wrong to bring cold, hard logic into it.

“I think we should take our leave,” Wilbur says. “Thank you for bringing us here, Matthew.”

“You’re welcome.” Matthew beams, a broomstick in hand. “If it aided you in your search even a tiny bit, then I am glad.”

Wilbur and Tommy ascend the staircase once more, the waning rays of sun in their faces, peeking out from over the canopies of leaves and the cotton-candy clouds drifting overhead. They get on the boat and Wilbur begins to row them to the other side of the river.

[“Wilbur](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRSIzXEVSs4). I’m tired.” Tommy’s stomach rumbles. “And hungry.”

“We _have_ been walking for a while,” Wilbur says. “I think some good food is in order.”

“You should bring me to a pub, Wilbur. I’m sixteen and apparently I need adult supervision. You can get me alcohol too.”

“I promised your mother,” Wilbur says sternly. “And the answer is no. I can accompany you, but only for food and a glass of soda.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Be young, do crime, says I.”

“I’m not sure that’s how that go-”

Before Wilbur finishes his sentence, he stops stock-still, staring at the other side of the riverbank. Tommy follows his gaze, freezing when he realizes just what he’s looking at.

By a tree trunk is a bearded man with a cap, attempting to force a sleeping Ramon into a large cloth sack. Ramon is completely unresponsive, eyes closed and unmoving.

[Wilbur](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NE_WVSv4sVo&) is already off and running before Tommy can even blink.

“Stop right there!” Wilbur shouts, his legs carrying him like wings down the stone path. The bearded man lets out an unholy shriek, grabbing his sack and tossing it over his back, with Ramon still inside.

Good Lord. That man runs faster than Tommy expected. He’s probably the mysterious kidnapper that has terrorized this village! He turns down a dark alleyway, one so dark that Tommy would not walk through it past nine p.m. GMT, that is. Wilbur chases him down the path, taking the stairs at the end two at a time.

The man continues to dash through the town, turning down winding alleys and pathways. He clearly knows where he’s going, as he does not see the need to stop nor pause. Tommy nearly knocks over a pot of ferns. Wilbur slams against a solid brick wall after failing to execute a sharp turn, cursing loudly as he attempts to regain his balance.

A clanging of metal resounds in Tommy’s ears just before he and Wilbur round the corner. His foot is met with nothing but air, entire body weight hurled forward over an open manhole.

“What the fuck!” Tommy screams as he falls through the hole, yelping when his rear end hits the hard ground. Pain shoots up his spine and he winces. He picks himself up, a hand rubbing at the bruise already forming on his buttock.

Wilbur seems to have fallen into the same hole, landing in this…where _is_ this place? Damn, it stinks. Tommy pinches his nose as he glances around. There are hardly any lights here, but he doesn’t need anything else besides the floating rubbish in the canal of water before them to know that they’re, once again, in the sewers.

Wilbur pats at his coat, dust bursting from the fabric in clouds. Well, at least Wilbur’s well. That old man really got them good. His eyes follow a sliver of light pooling on the ground, illuminating a metal ladder covered in rust.

[“We](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGgSfDgT8Js&) lost him, Wilbur.”

If Wilbur is disappointed, he does not show it. Rather, he appears more pensive, as if trying to connect some dots in his head.

“Can we get out of here?” Tommy says, walking towards the ladder. “My nose is numb from the smell.”

Tommy hauls himself onto the ladder, painstakingly making his way up to the surface. Wilbur clambers up right behind him. The both of them bathe in the stench of their sweat mixed with that of the sewers, sitting ungracefully on the ground.

“I reek, Wilbur.” Tommy sniffs at his armpit and makes a face. “I don’t think we can go walking into a pub like this.”

He looks over at Wilbur, only to find that he’s holding something in his hand. Something small and wooden.

“Is that a gear?” Tommy asks.

“A cog,” Wilbur corrects. He turns it around in his hand, scrutinizing it from every angle. “It’s the same type as the one we found at the murder scene.”

“Wait, so that guy is the one who killed Simon too?” Tommy asks.

“Possibly. We cannot be sure,” Wilbur says, dropping the cog into his pocket. “In any case, we cannot skip out on lunch, but that will have to wait. For now, we must speak with Lady Dahlia.”

Wilbur picks himself up and offers a hand to Tommy, who takes it. Tommy takes his time to survey his surroundings. This is a familiar street – this is just a little past the clock tower. Archibald’s residence is merely a few steps’ walk away. Speaking of which, the manhole cover that that old man kicked away lies in front of Archibald’s door.

Wilbur picks it up, grunting at its hefty weight, and lowers it gently over the manhole. It is the responsible thing to do, Tommy thinks. And Wilbur is always responsible. Wilbur wipes at the sweat on his forehead.

“Let us be off. We must inform the Lady of Ramon’s fate.”

Tommy nods stiffly. His butt still hurts, but that dull ache is easily pushed to the back of his mind. Not with the advent of new information. They had seen the mystery man who kidnaps people. If they can just catch that man…

Wilbur makes swift strides towards Reinhold manor, a rare eagerness in his step. Tommy follows right behind him, hoping that the stench would diffuse soon. He can’t very well be destroying his dignity like this, or at least what little of it he has left.

For the first time, Reinhold manor seems so very far away.


	9. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the solving of the case...?

[“Are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zH8pn_BuR4U) you trying to poison me?”

That furious voice is unmistakably Bad’s. Tommy would recognize it from miles away from the distinct lilts. Why’s he so worked up? Moreover, what the hell is he doing here? His quarry is out there getting his ass kidnapped!

Wilbur raps his knuckles on the door of the drawing room.

“I-I apologize,” Matthew mumbles timidly, voice clear from within. “We shall-”

“If there’s anything I hate, it’s anything that has sugar in it!”

The door swing open and Matthew emerges from the room, carrying what appears to be a tray of eclairs, the delectable treats making Tommy’s mouth water. Matthew notices their presence, looking them up and down. If he’s caught a whiff of their stench, he’s chosen not to care.

“What seems to be the matter, sir?” Matthew asks.

“Is the Lady in the room?” Wilbur asks.

“She’s entertaining the Inspector.” Matthew adjusts the tray balanced on his arm. “What business have you with her?”

“We found Ramon,” Tommy says without missing a beat. “That boat guy. He was being kidnapped!”

The word sends Matthew into a slight panic. “Kidnapped? Are you sure of this?”

“We believe so,” Wilbur says. “We saw it with our own eyes. We gave chase, but the culprit managed to give us the slip.”

“I see. In that case, we must inform the Lady forthwith.” Matthew knocks thrice on the door. “My Lady, the Professor is here with some shocking news.”

“I’m busy, Matthew, you cretin!”

Ouch. It’s a low insult, but then again, Tommy isn’t any better.

“My Lady,” Wilbur tries. “We know where Ramon has gone.”

“Ramon?” Lady Dahlia’s shrill voice is clear even through the thick oak doors. “You’ve found Ramon?”

The door swings open, answered by Lady Dahlia – by the devil! The cat is there in her arms! – with the Inspector standing behind her. Her face falls, her pleasant smile morphing into a discontented frown as she regards them with an air of aloofness.

“You said you found Ramon.”

“We did but listen to this; we witnessed his abduction with our very eyes,” Wilbur says, shaking his head. “We must organize every search possible in search of the man! Who knows what this-”

Wilbur is interrupted by a chirrupy voice, a distinct chuckle rumbling behind them.

“What sort of commotion have I stumbled upon?”

Tommy’s eyes widen. He spins on his heels, jaw slack, coming face to face with a tall man with thick lips. It is none other than Ramon.

“Ramon!” Wilbur is unable to conceal his surprise. “What are you-I thought you had…?”

“I was struck ill,” Ramon says with a hearty laugh. “I had merely gone home to sleep. Halfway through my nap, I remembered that I had left something at the riverbank. Of course, I could not continue my rest until I’ve recovered it. I must have given in to slumber, of course, because I blacked out sometime during my journey.”

“Then when you came to…?” Wilbur falters, looking so out of his element for the first time in a while. It’s uncomfortable, at least to Tommy.

“I was leaning against the tree upon which I laid against by the riverbank,” Ramon says with a giant smile. “I must have surrendered to sleep there. I proceeded to find what I had lost and that is when I heard the ruckus from the manor.”

No matter how you look at it, his story is definitely suspicious, and yet…

“There you have it,” Lady Dahlia says disdainfully. “Dear Ramon was tired and went home to get some gainful rest. Although, I’d like for him to inform us next time.”

“And I’ve deduced that Ramon is not the murderer,” Bad says, stepping forward.

“Murder? What?” Ramon starts, disoriented.

“What do you mean?” Wilbur asks. “Has new evidence come to light?”

“Something like that. I’ve actually found the identity of the true murderer,” Bad says, and he gestures at Wilbur. “I have deduced that it must be you and your foul-mouthed assistant.”

[“That’s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGgSfDgT8Js) simply not possible,” Wilbur says, huffing. “Didn’t we already prove our innocence?”

“Witness testimonies are never accurate,” Bad says. “I’ve learned that lesson well from experience.”

“What? That’s so fucking unfair!” Tommy yells.

“Language!” Bad cries. “The two of you are under arrest for plotting _and_ carrying out the murder of Simon Reinhold. You have to come with me back to Scotland Yard.”

“You go on about false testimonies, Inspector, but all you’ve presented is pure conjecture,” Wilbur says. “Do you have any concrete evidence of your own?”

Tommy doesn’t like the look on his face. Bad’s lips are twisted into a smirk as he retrieves a blue vase placed on the drawer beside him. Tommy _knows_ that vase! It’s the very same one that that weird stallholder tried to push onto them. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“What? That vase?” Wilbur asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Exactly.” Bad holds up the antique, as if holding a treasure in hand. “This vase has your fingerprints all over it, Professor. It was here before the crime, as both the Lady and Mr Matthew can testify to it, but it was gone after. This proves that you were here when the murder was taking place!”

“That’s…” Wilbur laughs heartily. Tommy fears he’s gone terribly insane. “That’s the most peculiar thing I’ve ever heard, Inspector.”

[“What](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gbWiFxMvNU) is it? Do you have something that can refute my flawless evidence, Professor?” Bad says with the most dissatisfied expression.

“Of course. With confidence, I’d say,” Wilbur says, stepping between the Inspector, Ramon and the door. He folds his arms. “In fact, I am able to prove the identity of our murderer.”

“Well, out with it, Professor!” Lady Dahlia cries, tapping her foot impatiently. Matthew whimpers as he glances from Wilbur to the other parties in the room. “If it is not yourself…”

“You see, there has been so many loose ends about this murder that has yet to be tied up,” Wilbur says. “The most singular aspect of this whole case was how quickly it had progressed, in my opinion.”

True. That had been at the forefront of Tommy’s mind as well back when they had the authority to speak on the subject back when it had first occurred in the morning.

“Now, the crime happened in the span of twenty minutes to half an hour,” Wilbur says. “Before we left the house to catch Claudia, Simon was still alive. However, after we returned, Simon had not only been killed, but the police had arrived and the body transported. Having all that happen in the span of twenty minutes is, to be honest, a stretch.”

Bad wears a troubled frown, looking like he wants to cut in, but Wilbur continues nonetheless.

“That is not the only peculiarity that I have considered,” Wilbur says. “The murderer’s methods are unknown – his murder weapon, his method of escape…none of those had been identified thus far. And yet, upon learning of Ramon’s disappearance, our dear Inspector was ever so willing to put the entirety of the blame on him.”

“That’s because criminals tend to flee the scene after they commit the crime,” Bad says, puffing his chest out.

“Still, that is not indicative of anything. It’s not circumstantial evidence, much less conclusive,” Wilbur says. “Moreover, it’s your only reason for suspecting Ramon at all. Now, therein lies the solution.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Dahlia asks. “Are you saying that the esteemed Inspector is wrong?”

“Of course, if this man who stands before us is even the Inspector at all,” Wilbur says with a knowing smirk.

“Hey. What’s that mean?” Bad frowns.

“Why push for your conclusion so hard using such wishy-washy evidence?” Wilbur says, spreading his arms.

Bad looks offended. “Wishy-washy?”

“Now, there can only be two reasons. The first” – Wilbur holds out a finger – “is that the Inspector is simply bad at his job.”

“But that newspaper…” Tommy starts, trailing off when Wilbur smiles.

“That is why we can, with good conscience, remove the first reason from the equation. Now, all that’s left is the second possibility,” Wilbur says. “That this man is not the Inspector at all, and that he is an honest-to-goodness imposter.”

“An imposter!” Ramon’s eyes bulge.

“You’re joking.” Bad shakes his head. “You’re seriously calling me an imposter.”

“As real as the term can get,” Wilbur says, stabbing a finger at Bad. “If anyone had a hand in the murder, it has to be you!”

“This is ridiculous,” Bad says, assuming a haughty stance now. “I wasn’t even here when Simon was killed!”

“No one can verify that alibi,” Wilbur says. “What really tipped me off, though, wasn’t that. I found it strange that you did not remember Ramon when I first mentioned his name. He should have been the first person who greeted you by the river, since he was the ferryman after all, and crossing the river is the only way to reach the manor. However, my suspicions were only confirmed when we ran into the man with the crank.”

“The man with the crank? You mean Franco?” Matthew asks.

“The one who operates the drawbridge,” Wilbur says, nodding. “When Tommy and I first entered the village, Franco had let the drawbridge down for us to cross and promptly raised it. After which, he had reported the crank lost. It remains lost even now.”

“I don’t understand,” Bad says defiantly, shaking his head.

“That means that the last people who had entered the village were Tommy and I,” Wilbur says. “Ergo, you had to be in the village before our arrival. You could not have transported Simon’s body away from the scene because the drawbridge had been lifted. Your claim that you already had Simon halfway to the coroner’s office was nothing but a bare-faced lie!”

Bad takes a step back at the force of that accusation, scrambling for words. His features are contorted, a snarl marring his lips as he stutters.

“T-That’s not true…”

“That’s not all,” Wilbur says, the smile still on his face.

“There’s more?” Lady Dahlia asks tiredly.

“There is,” Wilbur says. “And I’ve only just noticed it when we arrived back at the manor. The final nail in your coffin, ‘Inspector Halo’. Matthew, do you recall what you had offered the Inspector?”

“It was a tray of eclairs…” Matthew starts.

“And yet, from what we had heard outside the door, you claimed that you hated sugary treats,” Wilbur says. “This is a glaring inconsistency with whatever we had read in the papers about you.”

“The papers?”

“There was an entire article on the Inspector,” Lady Dahlia says, nodding. “Matthew! Fetch the papers at once!”

Matthew scampers off with unparalleled urgency.

“According to the newspaper, you like chocolate chip muffins, and always celebrated the closing of a case with a fresh batch of muffins your wife bakes,” Wilbur says. “In case you didn’t know this, Inspector, muffins are sweet.”

Bad furrows his brow, more in confusion than in offence. “They are the only sweet things I like. My wife bakes the best muffins in the world.”

Wilbur clasps his fingers together just as Matthew bursts through the door. “Well, there it is. The final piece of evidence that proves your guilt: Those muffins were not baked by your wife. Not according to the newspaper at least.”

Wilbur retrieves the papers from Matthew and shoves the front-page article in Bad’s face. “They are baked by your assistant, Skeppy. Being unable to recall even this most basic fact about your life does not reflect well on you, Inspector Halo. What do you have to say for yourself?”

[With that](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKVfw13NMp8), Bad laughs, his voice no longer as sharp as it was, instead taking the form of a tinkling lilt as the man removes his disguise, dropping the skin-tight mask and the Inspector’s outfit to the floor. Wilbur frowns. Tommy can only stare on as if he’s watching a performer.

The man who appears from the oversized clothes is slightly shorter than both Tommy and Wilbur, the faintest hint of a leer on his face as he regards the people in the room.

“I’d expected nothing less from you, Wilbur Soot,” the man says.

Wilbur says nothing.

“My plans have been foiled this time, but I swear on my name, Wilbur, that I will exact my revenge next time!”

This man is crazy. That’s the only conclusion to this turn of events. The man turns tail and runs, disappearing out the door and veering down the flight of steps before they can even blink.

“Aren’t you going after them?” Lady Dahlia cries, and Wilbur shakes his head.

“Let him go,” Wilbur says. “I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon.”

“You know that guy, Wilbur? He said he wants to exact revenge on you,” Tommy says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

[“His](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUDNnjDnWRg) name is Fundy. An old acquaintance of mine,” Wilbur says, sighing.

Without further elaboration, he turns to Lady Dahlia. “The mystery’s been solved: it was the imposter, Fundy, who had murdered Simon. He must have sought after the Golden Apple as well and moved to stop us from obtaining it.”

“I see. You have my most heartfelt thanks,” Lady Dahlia says. “We are in your debt, Professor Soot. We hope your search of the Golden Apple goes well.”

Wilbur bids them goodbye and Ramon sees them out, rowing them from one end of the river to the other. Tommy wonders where that man, Fundy, went. There’s no way he can leave the village. Perhaps he’s gone into hiding somewhere?

Oh well, if Wilbur’s confident that he’ll stay on the down low, then Tommy has nothing to be worried about.

“Where to now, Wilbur?”

“There’s only one place left to explore,” Wilbur says. “And you know exactly where it is.”

“Oh.” Tommy can’t say that he’s especially excited to be there.

Ramon bids them goodbye when they reach the other end of the riverbank, wishing them luck on their search. Wilbur and Tommy set off for the tower, for the imposing presence in the centre of town.


	10. The Tower's Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the truth of the matter comes to light

[They](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUDNnjDnWRg) pass by the marketplace and turn down the narrow side road, leading them down a deserted path that brings them closer and closer to their target with each quick stride.

The duo soon comes to the same wall that had blocked their advance the day before. Even now, there’s still no way around it. Not as far as Tommy can see, but Wilbur must have a plan, because he approaches the wall confidently.

Wilbur fishes the key from his pocket and traces his finger on the wall, muttering something incoherently to himself. Tommy watches, arms folded, as Wilbur slots the key into what appears to be a tiny hole carved into the wall. How had Wilbur noticed that?

Upon the turning of the key, the wall begins to tremble and slide jerkily into the ground. Tommy stares, wide-eyed, at the spectacle.

“Now we’ve got that cunt out of the way.”

Tommy gulps as he takes in the ominous majesty of the tower. The tower shrouded in questions, but within its crumbly interior, Wilbur is certain that they will find the answers to those questions. If Wilbur thinks it, then it must be true.

Just who has been randomly kidnapping people when they’re sore in the body? How is it that they return with absolutely no recollection of the event? How is this, along with Simon’s murder, related at all to the location of the Golden Apple?

Smaller mysteries run through Tommy’s head. What was that noise that spooked Claudia at the beginning? Where had that crank gone? Who was that boy that dropped the ticket to the park? Why had the Ferris Wheel chased after them?

How can one place hold so many answers?

The two doors are held fast by a lock, one which displays several die patterns upon it.

[ **< Puzzle: The Next Die>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

“‘The dice are arranged to form a particular pattern. Which is the next die in line?’” Wilbur reads off the inscription above the number pad. Guess they’ll just have to solve their way through this one as well. Before Tommy can even take a crack at it, Wilbur taps on the die corresponding to the answer, C, and the door springs open in front of them.

“Right then. Off we go,” Wilbur says, stepping through the door and beckoning Tommy with a wave of his hand. Tommy walks in after him, allowing the door to slam shut.

[All](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0ntmd0m4bg) of a sudden, the ground sinks beneath Tommy’s feet. He barely has time to lower his gaze before he’s hurtling through the air, both he and Wilbur plunging into the depths below. The remnants of the floor crashes to the ground, miraculously missing the both of them.

Why? Why do they have to fall through some manner of holes twice in the span of a day?

“You alright, Tommy?”

“I’m fine.” Tommy pulls himself to his feet, a careless survey of this room alerting him to something that’s simply…not right. Standing before them is a workbench and beside it, a device that resembles a vending machine. Its surface depicts illuminated portraits that Tommy has seen before! They are portraits of the village’s residents! A key is stuck fast under each portrait.

“Hey, look at this,” Tommy points out Simon’s portrait, the face of the gangly man smirking up at them. It’s the only dull one – could it have something to do with the fact that he’s dead?

“As I thought,” Wilbur says.

“As you what?” Tommy cries. “You can’t have figured everything out, Wilbur. That’s too smart even for you.”

“Excuse me. I can be as smart as I want to be,” Wilbur says. “Let’s get out of here first, Tommy, and then I’ll explain.”

The spiral staircase of stone looks exceptionally welcoming compared to this cramped nook of a room. However, just as Wilbur begins the journey back up to the level from which they fell through the floor, a strange, little man descends the same staircase.

This strange little man wears a cap and a beard, his shaggy hair kept tidy with a scrunchie. He looks like your average janitor, one that wears baggy clothes soiled with the hardships of maintaining hygiene.

“It’s you!” Wilbur cries, stabbing a finger in his direction. The man folds his arms, brushing off the accusation easily.

“Where did _you_ take Number Eighty-Three?” the man shouts. “Return Number Eighty-Three to me right this instant!”

Number Eighty-Three? What the hell is he talking about?

“Rest assured, we don’t have Number Eighty-Three with us, good sir,” Wilbur says, stepping aside and letting the man into this humble space. The man harrumphs, stalking over to his workbench and dumping a handful of cogs into his toolbox.

Wait. Cogs?

“Then it must be the other one, then,” the man says. “The other outsider.”

“What are you talking about?” Tommy cries. “This makes no fucking sense!”

“’Course it does, if you’d work your mind a little harder,” the man says, tapping at his temple. He turns to them, expression no less grouchy than before, but at least he’s willing to talk. “The name’s Bruno, and you’ve found my lair.”

Wait, Bruno? Wasn’t that…?

Wilbur ducks his head. “It seems we have.”

“Stop ignoring me!” Tommy exclaims. “What am I? Chopped liver? I’ll have you know-”

“Have me know what, boy?” Bruno says, glaring at him with a sort of ruggedness. Tommy backs off immediately. This man isn’t joking around.

“Well, you see, Tommy. I will explain in such a way that even your tiny brain can understand,” Wilbur says, holding up a finger when Tommy opens his mouth to retort. “This entire town, including all of its residents, aren’t human.”

“Huh? What do you mean? They’re walking and talking and serving us good food…”

“Nah, your friend’s right,” Bruno says, sighing. “They’re all robots, built at the request of the Baron, of course.”

“At the request of the Baron?” Wilbur repeats.

“I was the Baron’s good friend, you see, back when he was still alive. You’d probably have figured that out by now,” Bruno says, settling into a stool by the workbench. “Used to make robots for him – they’re basically servants, you see, like Matthew and Ingrid. But after the passing of his wife, the Baron was stricken with grief. In an attempt to cheer him up, I tried to build a robot that looked like her. From her appearance, her mannerisms, her speech. Everything was tailored to replace Lady Violet.”

“And this robot is Lady Dahlia?” Wilbur says.

Bruno nods. “A robot could never replace Lady Violet, but at least, the Baron is no longer as lonely. Tubbo never really took to her and stayed near Violet’s grave most of the time.” He uncaps a canteen placed upon the table and takes a large swig. “Then two months later, he approached me with a vast sum of money and another big project in mind.”

“This village…” Wilbur mumbles.

“That’s right.” Bruno says. “Turns out, the building of this village was already underway, and he wanted to commission me to build the residents. Of course, the streets and houses are but the skeleton of a village; its people are the heart.”

How fittingly poetic.

“I made the robots as realistically as possible. Left my university and everything to focus on seeing the village’s construction to its completion,” Bruno says.

“What was the reason?” Wilbur asks. “The reason the Baron had this entire village built?”

Bruno eyes him with curiosity. “It was all for Tubbo’s sake.”

“I don’t get it,” Tommy mutters.

“It was to keep him company, wasn’t it?” Wilbur says, as if a light bulb has just gone off in his head. “Tubbo has already lost his mother and after losing his father as well, he’d be all alone in the world.”

Bruno nods. “You got that right. The Baron’s most precious treasure was his son. He didn’t want Tubbo to be lonely, so he got me to build robots that could foster an environment where he can grow up happy and healthy.”

“Wait, so if everyone are robots, then how can their joints hurt…and then you kidnapped them…huh?” Tommy frowns in displeasure. He hates not knowing things, especially when he’s the only oblivious one in the room.

“Robots break eventually, boy, as does everything else,” Bruno says, cracking at his neck. “I had to do maintenance on the robots and fix them up when they got busted.”

“And that’s when the tower emits a loud sound, am I right? A couple of residents did inform us of a disturbing rumble when someone disappears.”

“Aye.” Bruno leans back against the wall. “Once I’m done with the repairs, I release them back into the village, good as new.”

“So you’re just the local repairman?” Tommy says.

“Not just that,” Bruno says, a mischievous twinkle in those grey eyes of his. “I’m also the guardian of the Golden Apple.”

“Do you have a puzzle for us too?” If this man has the audacity to say yes, then…oh, Tommy wouldn’t know _what_ he’d do.

Bruno laughs. “I have no puzzles for you, but the Baron does. This tower itself is riddled with puzzles and the only way you can get to the top is by solving each and every one of them.”

“Then I certainly hope you don’t mind us trying our hand at it.”

“By all means. Having come this far means that Tubbo must have placed some sort of trust in you.”

Tubbo? What does Tubbo have to do with all this? Wilbur thanks Bruno and is already on his way up the stairs, two steps at a time. Tommy follows after him and the two of them arrive once more at the floor from which they dropped. The room is lit up now, flickering lightbulbs surrounded by buzzing flies.

A staircase lies to their left, their first challenge having already presented itself to them. A number pad keeps the door locked, blinking to life when Wilbur touches it, surprisingly high-tech for a quaint village like this.

[ **< Puzzle: A Magic Square>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U)

“It’s a fucking magic square,” Wilbur mutters, tapping the squares a couple of times. On a three-by-three square grid, each square must contain a number from one to nine, and no two square can contain the same number. The summation of three numbers horizontally, vertically and diagonally must add up to the same number.

Wilbur solves it at record speed, the lock blinking with a green light. The door swings open, and the two bound right up the stairs.

[“Wilbur,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9BwceDWakY) you know that sound that scared Claudia?”

“Yes, Tommy?”

“Was it because someone was kidnapped? Then the tower rumbled?”

“I doubt it,” Wilbur says. “In fact, I’d say that it was probably Fundy having made his grand entrance in the village.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I’m not sure if you remember, but think back to what Ramon had said. He mentioned that it was a sound unlike what he’s heard before. Crouton also made the same assertion,” Wilbur says. “Given that the tower had been making strange noises for a while, I think that he would have recognized it right away had it been the tower.”

“Oh.”

The stairs seem to stretch on forever, the spiral making Tommy dizzy the further he climbs. Thankfully, they reach the next landing fairly quickly; he needs some time to rest his legs.

The next puzzle presents itself in the form of a wordy problem, another number pad keeping the door locked.

[ **< Puzzle: Take the Stairs>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

“You have business on the eighth floor of a building. The elevator has broken down, so you have to climb the stairs. You take forty-eight seconds to make your way from the first floor to the fourth. If you keep moving at the same speed, how long would it take you to reach the eighth floor from the fourth?” Tommy reads. It’s fucking math again.

“Easy. The answer’s sixty-four,” Wilbur says. He taps the correct answer on the number pad and it blinks with a green light, opening up the path for them to the next floor.

[Just](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9BwceDWakY) how high up does this tower go? It feels like they’ve been climbing for forever! Tommy pauses to catch his breath as soon as they reach another staircase landing, this one with a door that takes them to the outside.

The door, thankfully, is not equipped with a puzzle, but opens up to a dreary gazebo with rusted benches and wilting potted plants. Man does Bruno really need to come up here and clean this place up a little.

“Shall we take a break?” Wilbur says, himself seeming on the verge of collapse. Perhaps the two of them should go and have a jog around the streets of London or something sometime soon. Their current level of fitness is clearly insufficient with regards to the physical capabilities their job demands of them.

The gazebo is so high in the clouds that it makes Tommy’s legs wobble if he so much as glances down. Otherwise, all he can see is St. Mystere bathed in the evening glow of the sun as it continues to descend beneath the horizon.

“Just wondering, Wilbur. You know about the Ferris Wheel?” Tommy says, noticing the amusement park at the edge of the village, right by its borders. It felt like it had been forever since they were there, although it had only been a few hours.

“Mhm?”

“How did it chase us?” Tommy asks. “If you ask me, I’d say a ghost did it.”

“It was no ghost,” Wilbur says. “Fundy was an accomplished engineer back when we were both in university. Manipulating that Ferris Wheel with some remote-control gadget would be a piece of cake for him.”

Tommy hums. Fundy is a fearsome person indeed.

“Let’s continue,” Wilbur says after what must be only several seconds of rest. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”

Tommy stares in dismay at the sheer size of the tower they’ve got left to climb. Still, waiting around will bring them no closer to solving the mystery of the Golden Apple, which Wilbur believes sits at the very top of this hunk of rickety bricks.

Sighing, Tommy plucks himself from the bench and follows Wilbur as the latter walks over to a white door, this one fitted with five rectangles in a row that fizzle to life when Wilbur touches one, each one of them displaying the ace of spades. A set of faded, but still legible, instructions are written on the side of the contraption.

[ **< Puzzle: Card Order>** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&)

“Five cards lie before you: an ace of spades, of diamonds, of hearts and of clubs, including one Joker card is contained within. Using the clues below, figure out which card belongs where:

  1. The club is to the immediate right of the heart.
  2. Neither the diamond nor the Joker is next to the spade.
  3. Neither the Joker nor the diamond is next to the club.
  4. Neither the diamond nor the spade is next to the heart.”



“I hate these kinds of puzzles…” Wilbur mutters. Tommy steps forward.

“Man, Wilbur, as smart as you are, you’re actually kind of dumb.” Different combinations race through Tommy’s mind, eliminating each as they come, until he settles upon one particular arrangement that meets all the criteria. Once he taps the “Submit” button, the lock clicks and the door shambles open, revealing yet more stairs.

[Kill](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9BwceDWakY) him now, Tommy thinks. Kill him now before the exhaustion does.

Despite the ache in their legs, the absolute soreness that tempts them into forfeiting the trial, they press on, solving numerous puzzles set out before them.

“Wilbur. There’s one more thing I don’t understand.”

“What is it?”

“Where did Simon’s body go?” Tommy asks. “He’s dead, innit? But he’s a robot, so that can’t be right.”

“I suspect that he’s broken,” Wilbur says. “He must have collapsed all on his own, and when Fundy entered the manor – probably through the window – he must have chanced upon the fallen Simon. He must have noticed that Simon was a robot upon closer inspection and took an interest in him.”

“Oh. So you’re saying that Fundy took him apart.”

Wilbur makes a face. “In essence.”

Finally, after the longest journey of their lives, Wilbur and Tommy reach the very top of the tower, hindered by one final puzzle.

**[<Puzzle: Splitting It Up>](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2nPysfmt0U&) **

“A big wooden cube is painted red on all six sides, composed of twenty-seven identical cubes, varying only in the number of red sides per cube. How many of these twenty-seven small cubes have only one of their sides painted red?”

“Easy. Six,” Wilbur says. He inputs the answer into the number pad and the door opens. Wilbur nudges it open, blessing their eyes with one of the most magnificent rooms that they’ve ever laid eyes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzles in this Chapter:   
> The Next Die  
> Take the Stairs  
> Card Order  
> Splitting It Up


	11. Tubbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They discover the truth of the Golden Apple...?

[A chandelier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRSIzXEVSs4) hangs from the ceiling, simple but elegant. A single-sized bed covered in blue sheets stand in a corner, beside a desk and under a window veiled by flowing curtains of reasonable thickness. The room is filled with the barest essentials and a few strange knickknacks, like a bronze globe held in place by a curved frame, but its main attraction is the boy standing in its middle, dressed in a plain tunic and trousers, ever so familiar, just missing the headscarf. At that moment, Tommy is hit with a sudden realization.

“It’s you!” Tommy cries. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The boy doesn’t speak. Wilbur approaches him.

“I thought as much,” Wilbur says, smiling. “We have found you at last, Tubbo.”

Huh? Tommy stares from Wilbur to the boy, as if Wilbur’s gone rightly insane. How can this boy be Tubbo? When Tommy squints at him, however, this boy does seem to resemble the painting of that boy in Reinhold manor…

“The hint you provided was very helpful,” Wilbur says. He retrieves the park ticket from his coat. “Would you like it back?”

Tubbo shakes his head, biting his lip as he gazes down at his shoes.

“Wait, Wilbur, where’s the Golden Apple? That’s what we came to find, right?” The room is devoid of what anyone would consider treasure, or gold, or money for that matter. Isn’t the Baron promising riches for whoever could locate the Golden Apple, or is that one big, fat lie?

“Tubbo himself, Tommy, is the Golden Apple,” Wilbur says.

That is the most cliché bullshit that Tommy has ever heard.

“He was, in Bruno’s words, the Baron’s precious treasure, after all. The Baron had set out a series of trials in order to test those who sought after the Golden Apple,” Wilbur explains. “He is looking for a suitable guardian for his son, as mentioned in his letter to Lady Violet, and we have passed the test by making it to the top of this tower.”

Tommy gapes, still trying to comprehend whatever Wilbur’s just told him.

“Um…” Tubbo looks uncomfortable. “I’m not quite what you were looking for, I assume?”

“Well, I had an inkling, although Tommy certainly had no idea,” Wilbur says. Tommy bristles at that. “Whatever the treasure turned out to be, we were merely here to fulfil the Baron, your father’s, request.”

“O-Oh,” Tubbo mumbles. “So, um, you found me. And…I guess-”

Tubbo doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because the next moment, the tower shakes violently. Tommy is thrown against the desk, body slamming painfully into the wood.

[“What’s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKVfw13NMp8) going on?” Wilbur is the first out of the room, throwing the door open.

What greets them is something that Tommy would never have imagined he would ever see: a giant flying contraption swinging a wrecking ball through the air, smashing the tower with each collision.

“Tommy! Stairs! Now!” Wilbur shouts. Tommy grabs Tubbo’s wrist and pulls him to his feet, dragging him towards the staircase with Wilbur right behind them. They’ve got to get out of here now!

“Come and get some, Wilbur Soot!” A voice booms from the machine in tandem with the periodic strikes of the spiked ball. Tommy yelps as the tower shakes, nearly losing his balance on the steps. Is Fundy insane? “Your time ends now!”

“That guy’s crazy!” Tubbo cries.

“You think?” Tommy yells.

In front of them, the staircase begins to collapse, crumbling before their very eyes. A section of the staircase falls away beneath his feet, and Tommy summons the last of his strength to leap forward, managing to catch himself on the other end of the staircase, stumbling against the wall.

That was close. Being so high up in the tower would mean certain death if he took a tumble. If he had been one second later…

Unfortunately, that also means that now, both Wilbur and Tubbo are trapped on the other end of the stairs, the gap now too big for either of them to make it across.

“Go, Tommy! Get out of here!” Wilbur says, a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder.

“Now’s not the time to be playing hero, Wilbur!”

“I have a plan! We’ll meet you on the ground!”

Before Tommy can protest, a piece of debris falling inches past his head. Wilbur trusts him to get down alright. He should give Wilbur a chance as well. He grants Wilbur an acknowledging nod and continues his escape from the tower.

Meanwhile, Wilbur urges Tubbo back up the stairs, already formulating a plan in his head. There’s only one way to get the both of them out of this tower, and they’ve only got the items in Tubbo’s room to work with.

With no time to lose, Wilbur barges back into the tiny chamber, ushering the boy in, and gets immediately to work.

*

[“What](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFBKHSitIjo) exactly are we making?” Tubbo asks, helping Wilbur tie the metal rod that holds the curtains to the frame of the globe, having detached the massive sphere now sitting in one corner of the room.

“You’ll see,” Wilbur says, finishing up the knot that binds the curtains to the globe’s frame. “Come on. Help me move this outside.”

The wind is strong – exactly what Wilbur needs for this to work. He keeps an arm tight around Tubbo’s waist as the both of them step onto their makeshift glider. The curtains catch the wind just as Wilbur pushes off the edge of the falling tower, the two of them taking to the air just as the tower topples behind them.

“No!” Fundy shouts as he pursues them, sending the wrecking ball swinging their way. Wilbur hisses as the spikes miss them by inches, the consequent gust of wind blowing them off their initial projected course.

Throwing a glance behind them, Wilbur watches as the remains of the tower slam against Fundy’s flying contraption, smashing it out of the sky. He frowns, wondering if Fundy survived that.

Still, he’s got more important things to take care of right now. Their glider rides the winds, the city getting bigger and bigger below them as they drift nearer and nearer the ground. Wilbur grips the frame tightly as he tries to predict the spot at which they will land.

Not favourable – at the rate they’re going, they’d crash into the rooftop of a terrace house.

“Hold on tight,” Wilbur says, preparing to meet the ground. Tubbo tenses, hugging Wilbur’s middle as they continue to descend, the unpredictable drafts blowing them now towards the sidewalk. Three…two…

One.

Wilbur releases the frame, his body suddenly as light as a feather as he and Tubbo fall from the makeshift glider. The glider smashes into the path, digging up a trail of dirt and cobblestone as it goes. Wilbur and Tubbo tumble through the air and onto the ground, rolling a considerable distance with their bodies battered unrelentingly.

When they come to a complete halt, Wilbur releases a breath he didn’t even know he’s been holding, Tubbo laying by his side. His back and arms are aching from the impact, and he stares up at the faces of concerned onlookers.

“Are you alright, Tubbo?” Wilbur asks, turning his head to face the boy he’s just saved. Tubbo is unharmed, a gasp of laughter rumbling through his throat.

“That was amazing!” Tubbo sits upright. He possesses energy on equal levels with Tommy, it seems; they’d make good friends. “We have to do that again sometime.”

Next time might not come so soon. Wilbur has had enough excitement for a while. Someone jostles rudely through the crowd, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Wilbur! Wilbur! That was incredible!” Tommy bends over him, a wide grin on his face. He turns to Tubbo. “Oh my God, you’ve got a pimple on your neck!”

“A pimple? That’s not very nice now, is it?” Tubbo huffs. It’s only then that Wilbur seems to notice the blemish, or the mark, on Tubbo’s otherwise-flawless skin. It could be just him, but he swears that it takes the form of an apple.

The Golden Apple, perhaps? A new thought nags at his mind and until he answers its call, he can never truly rest.

“Tommy, Tubbo, we have somewhere to be,” Wilbur says, leaping to his feet, the vigorous energy returned to him. “I know where the fortune lies.”

“You do?” Tubbo asks.

“Why are _you_ so surprised? Aren’t you his son?” Tommy asks, a hand on his hip.

“I don’t know! Father dearest never told me anything!”

Wilbur excuses himself as he pushes his way past the growing crowd. There is only one place that the inheritance can be, and the only ones who can find it are the ones that can put a smile on Tubbo’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Puzzles in this Chapter


	12. Epilogue: The Golden Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mystery of the Curious Village: Solved!

[“This?”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zH8pn_BuR4U&)

Tommy can hardly believe that the fortune can be here, right under their noses the whole time. Gathered around the portraits depicting the past heads of house in Reinhold manor, the team gazes upon the one portrait hung up at the very end of the row.

“It’s just a painting,” Matthew says, cocking his head. “I’m not sure how it can hold anything of monetary value.”

“Do you recall when Tubbo laughed, Tommy?” Wilbur says, absently rubbing at his chin. “You pointed out that there had been, as you put it, a ‘giant pimple’ on his neck.”

“Yeah, well, it was ugly.”

Tubbo makes a discontented noise.

“What you have failed to notice is the shape which the ‘pimple’ took,” Wilbur says.

“Why the fuck would I look at it that way? It’s just a pimple, man! You’re being creepy, Wilbur.”

“It took the shape of an apple,” Wilbur says, ignoring the outburst. “Of course, we can’t see it now because Tubbo isn’t laughing, but if we think about the clues on hand…”

Wilbur touches the spot on the portrait where the apple birthmark had appeared. Instantly, the spot glows and the portrait swings inward, revealing a narrow corridor behind it. At the end of the corridor, Tommy can see a smattering of gold, sparkling too brightly to be sure.

Tommy is the first through the hole in the wall, making his way down the corridor and to the hidden room that, true to his expectations, contains a treasure trove of more gold than he can ever imagine. The room is piled high with golden ornaments, gold bars and coins.

“What the hell!” Tommy cries, glancing back at Wilbur and Tubbo, who emerge from the narrow corridor. “The treasure was in the manor the whole time!”

“That seems to be the case,” Wilbur agrees.

Overhead a voice reverberates throughout the chamber, catching Tommy off-guard. He whirls around, instinctively looking for the source.

[“My](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBGERI7m63Q) dear son Tubbo…” The voice starts, startlingly deep. Tubbo perks up at the sound of his name, eyes shining as recognition dawns on his face.

“Father?”

“It appears that you have made your way here at last. If that is the case, then it seems that my efforts have not been in vain. It is more than likely that you have found someone from outside of St. Mystere who has made you happy in some way or form.”

The room is silent as the voice takes a pause, before it starts up again, speakers crackling from the corners.

“Whatever you see before you is the entirety of my inheritance,” the Baron says. “You may choose to bring it with you, but as soon as you lay your finger upon it, St. Mystere will sleep for the final time.”

“Sleep for the final time?” Tommy wonders.

“The choice is yours, but promise me that you will stay healthy and happy, Tubbo. Your mother and I will always be watching over you…”

With that, the voice fades away. Tubbo wipes at his cheeks, shoulders hunched over.

“The Baron probably means that when Tubbo claims the fortune, if he chooses to bring his inheritance with him outside of St. Mystere, the robots will shut down.” Although Wilbur never made it explicit, the implication is clear: Doing so would leave St. Mystere a hollow shell of the thriving village it is now.

“The inheritance belongs to you, Tubbo,” Wilbur says. “It’s up to you whether you want to take it or not. You may choose to stay in the village if you’d like – it’s where you grew up, after all.”

Tubbo shakes his head, clearing his face of his tears. “I can’t take it. It’s just not right to steal away St. Mystere’s life like that. Especially since I grew up with these people. They practically raised me.”

“So you’re staying?” Tommy asks.

“I…um…If you don’t mind…” Tubbo scuffs his soles against the ground. “If it won’t be a burden on you…”

“You may come with us if you’d like,” Wilbur says. “I have a spare room in my apartment.”

Tubbo beams, eyes sparkling. It is then that Tommy notices the birthmark that Wilbur mentioned. It really does take the form of an apple.

The apple had been the draw of this whole hunt, said hunt’s very basis the unyielding love of a father for his son.

“But are you sure you want to leave this all behind?” Tommy asks. “This whole village was built for you, you know?”

Tubbo shakes his head. “I’m good. I think Father wanted me to see the world too. That’s why he wants someone from the world outside St. Mystere can take care of me.”

“If that’s the case,” Wilbur says with a smile, “our work here is done.”

*

[“Are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SlICVgNj690) you sure you’ll be fine, young master?” Matthew is on the verge of shedding robotic tears. Even now, after having spent so long in the company of these people, it’s hard to really call them robots. Tommy is already seated in the passenger’s seat, with Tubbo waving goodbye to the villagers, including Bruno who stands amongst them, from the back seat.

After all their goodbyes are said and done, Wilbur revs the engine and the car’s engine begins to roar. They make their journey back down through the forest, on the beaten dirt path bound for London, leaving the curious village of St. Mystere behind.

Tommy glances at the back seat, Tubbo’s head leaning against the window, finally allowed a chance to relax. Tommy feels quite tired himself as he sinks back into the plush, cushiony seat.

He doubts they’d be sharing their findings on the secrets of St. Mystere and the truth of the Golden Apple. It’s best to keep something like this to themselves.

Tommy shuts his eyes, welcoming the warm glow of the sun against his face. Now, where will their next adventure bring them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Puzzles in this Chapter! 
> 
> Thank you for reading all the way to the end :))) 
> 
> If im still motivated i might do the next one: P. Layton and the Diabolical Box


	13. Puzzle Solutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solutions to the various puzzles interspersed throughout the story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are in order categorized according to Chapter! Ctrl+F "Chapter ?" to find the chapter immediately!

**Chapter 1**

Where's The Town: 

Farm Work: 

A and B divided the plot of land equally (i.e. in half). Because they are paid for the amount of land they sowed seeds on, they would receive the same amount of money. Absolutely no math is involved except: 100 pounds/2 = 50 pounds

**Chapter 2**

Wolves and Chicks: 

Step 1: Move two wolves over  
Step 2: Move one wolf back  
Step 3: Move two wolves over  
Step 4: Move one wolf back  
Step 5: Move two chicks over  
Step 6: Move one wolf and one chick back  
Step 7: Move two chicks over  
Step 8: Move one wolf back  
Step 9: Move two wolves over  
Step 10: Move one wolf back  
Step 11: Move two wolves over 

**Chapter 3**

Pill Prescription: 

Since he takes one pill today, he doesn't need to label that one. He would need to label all the pills up until the last one, because by the time he reaches the last pill, he's eaten all other pills so he's only left with that one. Therefore, he only needs to label 8 pills in total.

**Chapter 4**

Juice Pitchers: 

Step 1: Transfer 5 quarts from the 8-quarts pitcher from the 5-quarts pitcher (End result - 3:5:0)  
Step 2: Transfer 3 quarts from the 5-quarts pitcher to the 3-quarts pitcher (3:2:3)  
Step 3: Transfer 3 quarts from the 3-quarts pitcher to the 8-quarts pitcher (6:2:0)  
Step 4: Transfer 2 quarts from the 5-quarts pitcher to the 3-quarts pitcher (6:0:2)  
Step 5: Transfer 5 quarts from the 8-quarts pitcher to the 5-quarts pitcher (1:5:2)  
Step 6: Transfer 1 quart from the 5-quarts pitcher to the 3-quarts pitcher (1:4:3)  
Step 7: Transfer 3 quarts from the 3-quarts pitcher to the 8-quarts pitcher (4:4:0)

How Many Are Left?

The hint lies in the wording of the problem: "How Many are _left_ at the end?" The end, meaning after the other seven candles burn away, leaving only a puddle of wax behind and no candles. The only three candles remaining are the three that were blown out by the fire and hence weren't reduced to a puddle of wax.

**Chapter 5**

Truth and Lies: 

Only when B tells the truth can A and C's statements make sense. Assuming A is telling the truth, then C's statement that B is the liar also comes true. If C is telling the truth, then B's statement that A is a liar becomes true. Therefore, the only possible solution is that B is the only truthful one.

**Chapter 6**

OTTF?: 

Well, this stumped me for a long time when I was a child lol. You see, each letter corresponds to a word in a sequence: 

O - One  
T - Two  
T - Three   
F - Four...and i think you can work the rest out yourself. Thus, the fifth letter in the sequence is F because F - Five

Squares and Circles:

Here have a picture of Sylvain's smug face. If you tilt the middle square such that its corner touches that of the bigger square, then it becomes apparent that the area of the middle square is half that of the biggest square, and the area of the small square is half that of the middle one. Therefore, the area of the bigger square is four times larger than the area of the smaller one

Find a Star:

I hated this one. So I decided to plonk it in too. Plus we need more variety than math: 

**Chapter 9**

The Next Die:

If you notice, the number of dots on the top row increases by 1 dot every time before a gap. So the next dot in line needs to uphold that same rule. 

A Magic Square: 

A standard magic square is where all the rows/columns/diagonal lines add up to 15! 

Take the Stairs: 

Going from the first floor to the fourth floor means that you've climbed a total of 3 flights of stairs. Therefore, 48/3 = 16. From the fourth floor to the eighth floor is another four flights of stairs, so 16 x 4 = 64 seconds

Card Order: 

Splitting It Up: 

By splitting the blocks up in your head as shown in the picture, you will see that only the middle block of each face will have one side painted red. Therefore, 6 x 1 = 6 blocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Handpicked these puzzles lmao i couldn't find any other way to stuff anymore puzzles into this story...and i can't include those sliding ones...sigh...
> 
> In any case, hope you enjoyed!


End file.
